“All sorts of a hard seaman.”
Len sniffed at the fresh fall breeze which seemed so good to him, as the buckboard cleared the incline on to the plateau. An immense view opened out. It was a broad, treeless expanse with a wide front of purple hills in the distance.
“Say,” he went on after a moment, “I made the deal with him. I collected him in Perth. And I’d say he was a boy to fix himself right on to a man’s memory. He was quite a chunk of a man, broad, and strong and medium in height. He was clean-shaven and rough. But the thing standing out in my mind was his eyes——”
“Ah!”
Len looked round sharply.
“Have you seen ’em?” he asked.
“Maybe.” McLagan nodded. “Blue. Pale, queer blue, like the eyes of some sort of dead fish.”
“That’s the boy. Ther’ ain’t two pairs of eyes like his in the world. You surely have seen ’em.”
“Yep. I guess I must have seen ’em.”