‘Then, as to the brandings, nothing of course counts under six months. I observe that you and Brigalow had a very fair haul of calves about a month ago. I suppose none of them came from those outlying Wanilmah cattle of mine? We’ll scratch them out of the count.’
‘You be hanged,’ explodes Parklands. ‘I believe that old cattle-stealer, Weenham, that you call an overseer, is a long way on the debit side with me in the calf line. But scratch them out if you like. I hope you’re contented now. I believe you’re standing in with Neuchamp, and met accidentally by appointment at Bilwillia to have me.’
‘I’ve not quite done with you yet,’ said Brandon calmly, all unheeding of the gradually rising thermometer of Sparks’s temper. ‘What about those Back Lake cattle? It has just occurred to me that the last camp we saw there two years ago, when I helped you muster, contained an unusual number of “pigmeaters,” even for back country. You can’t charge our friend full price for them.’
‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Parklands, ‘you’re a friend in need. Well, of course we’ll make a deduction for them. Though as the country is so splendid out there, and is easily watered by cutting a channel from the river, I——’
‘Cost only two thousand pounds,’ murmured Aymer.
‘Go to blazes! Five hundred more likely,’ said the sanguine Sparks. ‘Well say a hundred off for “ragers.”’
‘Must have a hundred and fifty,’ placidly pleaded Brandon. ‘Think of the danger and anxiety in muster times.’
‘You’re another!’ burst out Sparks, now justly indignant. ‘If I take off another penny for anything, may I be——’
‘Well, I only want two more stock-horses now,’ persisted Brandon; ‘nothing here fit to call a horse that you could break your neck off creditably.’
‘Where am I to get them, eh?’ asked Parklands despairingly.