‘Well, I don’t suppose you’d have made much hand of them by yourself. However, a man’s a man when you’re travelling with sheep on a road like this. Don’t you listen to those other vagabonds, and you’ll make a smart chap by and by.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ernest; ‘I’ll try and keep as innocent as I can under the circumstances.’
The overseer rode off, puzzled as to whether the new hand was laughing at him or was ‘a shingle short.’ Slightly damaged people, whether from drink, disappointment, a lonely life, or the heat of the climate, were, unfortunately, not particularly scarce in the locality.
‘Whatever he is, he and that rowdy-looking card can keep their sheep and feed them first-rate,’ he said to himself, ‘and that’s all I’ve got to look out for. Perhaps the young one’s going jackerooing at Jedwood; if so, he has more sense than he looks to have.’ The month wore on with dreaminess and peace, so that Mr. Neuchamp began to think he would not be so unreasonably delighted to get to Garrandilla. Each day, soon after sunrise, they moved from camp at a pace extremely suitable to the thick coming fancies which filled the mind of Ernest Neuchamp during the first hours of the untarnished day. There was the glorious undisturbed sun, with autumnal tempered beams. On such endless plains Chaldean and Israelitish shepherds, in the world’s youth, had travelled or held vigil. No vast awe-striking ruins lay on these great solitudes. No temple eloquent of the elder races of the earth. But the stars burned by night in the all-cloudless dark blue dome as they sat in nominal watch, and Ernest mused of the silent kings of this mysterious human life, changeless destiny, till the morning star seemed to approach his solitary couch, as did that lonely orb which held converse with Morven, the son of Ossian.
In the daily round of guiding and pasturing he learned much of the complex nature of the under-rated intelligence of the sheep. His companion, Mr. Jack Windsor, had cultivated a habit of observation, and knew, as gradually appeared, something, not always a little, of everything rural.
‘Rum things sheep, sir,’ he would remark, as he commanded Watch to abstain from troubling and signalled Mr. Neuchamp to come on to his side; ‘I always see a deal of likeness to the women about ’em. If they don’t want to do a thing you can’t drive ’em to it. No, not all the men and dogs in the country. If you want ’em to do anything particular, pretend you don’t wish ’em to do nothin’ of the sort. Give ‘em lots of fair play, that’s another good rule, same as women. When it comes to anything out-and-out serious, act determined, and let them have it, right down heeling, and all the fight you’re master of.’
As it was from time to time pointed out, when principles and admonitions came into play, Ernest was enabled to comprehend the many ways in which stock can be benefited when travelling by discreet and careful feeding, halting, watering, and humouring. So that he actually possessed himself of an amount of practical knowledge with which a year’s ordinary station life might not have provided him. As for the rest of the men, his easy, unassuming equality of manner had rendered him personally a favourite with them. They held that a fair fight settled everything, without appeal, and having come to the conclusion that Mr. Neuchamp was a swell, presumably with money, travelling with sheep for his amusement—incomprehensible as was that idea to them—they felt that he was in a kind of way Jack Windsor’s property, who was likely to be pecuniarily benefited during the stage of Mr. Neuchamp’s softness and inexperience. Hence he was in his right to do battle for him. They would have done the same had they similar golden hopes. And now the matter being over, and ‘Bouncing Bob’ relegated to a ‘back seat’ as wit and occasional bully of the camp, they held, after the English fashion, that the discussion could not be reopened. So all was peace and harmony.
One day, as they were sleepily voyaging over the grass ocean, Jack Windsor, who had gone out of his way to look at a man leading a horse, returned with exciting news. The horse aforesaid was young, and in his opinion a great beauty—‘a regular out-and-outer,’ was the expression—and, by great chance, for sale. ‘Would Mr. Neuchamp like to buy him? If he wanted a horse at Garrandilla, he could not do a better thing.’
‘When you get there, sir, of course you’ll want a hack. There’ll be no more walking, I’ll be bound. You’ll have messages to carry, boundary riding to do, cattle-driving, getting in the horses—all sorts of fast work. Well, either they’ll give you a stiff-legged old screw, that’ll fall down and break your neck some day, or a green half-broken young one that’ll half kill you another road. I know the sort of horses the young gentlemen get at a station where a man like Mr. Jedwood’s the boss.’
‘Very well, what does he want for the colt? Is he a very good one?’