‘This is the last night we shall have that opportunity,’ said Argyll. ‘Here come the toddy tumblers. The night is chilly, but it will be more so next week, when we are on watch or lying under canvas in a teetotal camp.’
‘We can always manage a good fire, unless we are in blacks’ country,’ said Hubert; ‘that is one comfort; there’s any amount of timber; and you can keep yourselves jolly in a long night by carrying firewood.’
Long before daylight Hubert Warleigh arose and awakened Wilfred. Their horses had been placed so as to be easily procurable, and no delay took place. The stars were in the sky. A faint, clear line in the east yet told of the coming dawn, as the friends rode forth from Benmohr gate and took the track to the scene of the last night’s camp.
When they reached the spot the sun had risen, and no one was on the ground but Dick Evans, who was in a leisurely way packing up the camp equipage, including the tent and cooking utensils.
‘Here’s the breakfast, Mr. Wilfred,’ he said cheerily; ‘the cattle’s on ahead. I kept back the corned beef, and here’s bread and a billy of tea. You can go to work, while I finish packing. I’ll catch up easy by dinner-time, though the cattle’s sure to rip along the first few days.’
‘This is a grand institution,’ said Gerald. ‘I wouldn’t say a toothful of whisky would be out of place, and the air so fresh; but sure “I feel as if I could lape over a house this minute,” as I heard a Connemara parlour-maid say once.’
‘Nothing is more appetising,’ said Wilfred, ‘than a genuine Australian bush meal. A slice or two of meat, a slice of fresh damper, and a pot of tea. You may travel on it from one end of the continent to another.’
‘He was a great man that invented that same,’ said O’More. ‘Would there be a little more tay in the canteen? Beef and bread his unaided intellect might have compassed; but the tay, even to think of that same in the middle of the meal, required inspiration. When ye think of the portableness of it too. It was a great idea entirely!’
‘Bushmen take it morning, noon, and night,’ said Warleigh. ‘The doctors say it’s not good for us—gives us heartburn, and so on. But if any one will go bail for a man who drinks brandy and water, I’d stand the risk on tea.’
‘So I suspect. Even whisky, they do say, gets into the head sometimes. I suppose you never knew a man to kill his wife, or burn his house, or lame his child for life, under the influence of tay?’