“No, must go after lunch; have to ride down the river as far as Emu Reach. Man drowned last night—inquest.”
“How was that?”
“Oh, shepherd, of course; frightful amount of lunacy among them. Poor old Pott Quartsley got a great fright last week up Din Din. He went into a shepherd’s hut at dusk and saw him standing just in front of the door. ‘What are you staring at me like that for, you old fool?’ he said. Gave him a slight push. The shepherd turned half round and slid into the same posture, silently, ‘Great God!’ said Quartsley, rushing frantically out, ‘what is all this?’”
“And what was it?” asked Stangrove.
“Why, the man had hanged himself the day before with his bridle-rein fastened to the tie-beam. His feet just touched the ground, and his hat was on his head, so that he looked, in the half-light, exactly like a man standing upright. It had a great effect on old Quartsley.”
“What direction will the result take?”
“That of fencing, I believe. Says he can’t afford to keep expensive luxuries like shepherds any longer. That they’re extravagances are sure to injure the finest property—the soundest constitution in the long run. Says he shall repent, economize, and fence—for the future.”
“Bravo!” said Jack, a little feebly; “if old Quartsley begins to fence you won’t be left behind, Stangrove?”
“I said two years,” answered he, “and in two years I’ll consider the question, not an hour before that time. In the interval don’t you excite yourself. The doctor and I are going to the men’s hut. I’ll send Maud with some cold tea for you.”