‘Who the deuce is he?’ said Argyll. ‘We shall be well off for guides.’
‘Not more than you will want, perhaps,’ said the leader. ‘We’re not over Wahgulmerang yet. But the man is old Tom Glendinning—and a better bushman never saddled a horse. He has been living for some time at one of the farthest out stations, Ingebyra, and wants to join us. He asked me not to mention his name till we had actually started.’
‘So,’ said Wilfred reflectively, ‘the old fellow is determined to make his latter days adventurous. I see no objection, do you, Argyll? He and his history will be probably buried among the forests of this new country we are going to explore.’
‘It cannot matter in any way,’ answered Argyll. ‘He will, as you say, most likely never return to this locality.’
‘Many of the old hands have histories, if it comes to that,’ said Hubert, ‘and very queer ones too. But they have paid the price for their sins, and old Tom won’t have time to commit many more—if shooting an odd blackfellow or two doesn’t count.’
‘Have we any more general instructions to receive?’ inquired Hamilton, who was, perhaps, the most practical-minded of the party.
‘Only these: we must all be well armed. Pistols are handy, and a rifle or a double barrel is necessary for every man of the party. We may have no fighting to do; but blacks are plentiful, big fellows, and fierce too. We must be able to defend ourselves and more, or not a man will come back alive. After we cross the Snowy River, I shall halt till you all come up; then we can join the smaller mobs of cattle, so as to be close together in case of trouble. Everything will have to be packed from the Snowy; so it will be as well not to take more than is required.’
‘You are fully prepared for all the privations of the road, Mr. O’More?’ asked Argyll. ‘They may strike you as severe after your late life at headquarters.’
‘That is the very reason, my dear fellow. You surely haven’t forgotten that when you were at home you fancied all Australian life to be transacted in the wilderness. I expected the wilderness; I demand the desert. With anything short of the wildest waste I shall be disappointed.’
‘That’s the way to take it,’ said Fred Churbett. ‘I had all those feelings myself when I arrived, but I was betrayed into comfort when I bought The She-oaks, and have hardly gone nearer to roughing it than a trip to the Tumut for store cattle.’