‘I notice a good many stumps in Collins Street,’ said Wilfred. ‘Won’t that be a little dangerous for returning?’
‘Not with decent horses,’ said a young fellow with a dark moustache and one arm. ‘I drove tandem through it about two o’clock this morning.’
‘But you do everything so well, Blakesley,’ said St. Maur. ‘Speaking as an ordinary person, I must say I should funk the “Rue Bourke” or Collins after dark. But that is not our affair. Providence couldn’t injure a lady when there are only ten in the community.’
‘What about that brig, the Rebecca, that’s sailing to-morrow for Sydney?’ said a fresh-coloured, middle-aged personage who had spoken little, and, indeed, seemed oppressed with thought. ‘You came down in her, Rockley, didn’t you?’
‘Like nothing about her,’ said that gentleman with decision. ‘Badly found, badly manned, and the worst thing about her is the skipper. You don’t catch me in her again, I can tell you. Effingham and I are going overland.’
‘Indeed!’ said the speaker, much surprised. ‘I thought we should have been fellow-passengers. I never dreamed of any one riding all the way to Sydney, five or six hundred miles, when they could go by sea! If I’d known, I’d have changed my mind and started with you. It’s too late now; I’ve paid my passage.’
‘Look here, Bowerdale,’ said Mr. Rockley with earnestness, ‘I’ve paid my passage, and I forfeit it cheerfully rather than run the risk. If you knew Captain Jackson, you’d do it too. He’ll lose the ship and all hands some day, as sure as my name’s Rockley.’
‘There’s a good deal of luck in these things, I believe,’ said the other. ‘I must risk it anyhow. I can’t afford to lose the money, and I want to get back to my wife and chicks as soon as I can. We officials haven’t unlimited leave either, you know.’
‘D——n the leave!’ said Mr. Rockley volcanically, ‘and the money too. I’ll settle the last for you, and you can pay when you sell that suburban land you bought in Collingwood. There’s a fortune in that. Your chief’s a good fellow; he’ll arrange the leave. Half the Civil Servants in Sydney have had a shot at Melbourne land, you know. Say the word, and come with us. There’s a spare horse, isn’t there, Effingham?’
‘Lots of horse-flesh,’ said Wilfred, following his friend’s cue. ‘Mr. Bowerdale will just complete our party—make it pleasanter for all.’