“Forty-one thousand seven hundred and eighty,” answered M‘Nab, who always had anything connected with numerals at his fingers’ ends. “We have bought several small lots since last year, and the lambing average was very high. Of course the lambs don’t actually count till weaning time.”
“Well, we must only hope for a good season,” said Jack, “and for wool and prices to keep up. Then, perhaps, the loss of the shed won’t be so telling. We ought to have a good many fat sheep to sell in the winter.”
“So we shall,” said M‘Nab, “nearly ten thousand—counting the full-mouthed and cull ewes. Then we shall have lambs from nearly sixteen thousand ewes next year. I hope the season will not fail us, now the paddocks are all finished.”
“Well, it does look rather dry,” admitted Jack; “so early in the year too. But then it always looks dry here when it doesn’t rain. I shall have to run away to Melbourne now, and arrange whether to sell or ship this only moderately well-got-up wool of ours. I must have another interview with Mr. Shrood. It has been all spending and no returns of late.”
Shearing being over—how differently concluded to what he had fondly anticipated! Jack hied himself to town for his annual holiday. It did not wear so much the air of a festival this year. There seemed to be a flavour of stern business about it; much more than Jack liked.
The wool-market was by no means in so buoyant a condition as that of last year. The faces of his brother squatters, especially those of the more enterprizing among them, wore a serious and elongated expression. Ugly reports went about as to a probable fall in wool and stock. Jack found his indifferently got-up clip quite unsaleable in the colonial market. He therefore shipped it at once, taking a fair advance thereon. Freight, too, was unreasonably high that year. Everything seemed against a fellow.
He went in for the little interview with Mr. Mildmay Shrood, and thought that affable money-changer less agreeable than of yore. “He wanted to know, you know.” He asked a series of questions, testifying a desire to have the clearest idea of Jack’s stock, value of property, liabilities, and probable expenditure during the coming year. He dwelt much upon the unfortunate destruction of the wool-shed; asked for an estimate of the cost of another; looked rather grave at the account of the get-up of the clip, and the necessity for shipping the same. However, the concluding portion of the interview was more reassuring.
“Of course you will continue to draw as usual, my dear sir; but I may say, in confidence, that in commercial circles a fall in prices is very generally anticipated.”
“There may be a temporary decline,” rejoined Jack, candidly, “but it is impossible that it should be lasting. As for sheep, the stock are not at present in the country to enable us to keep up with the demand, especially since these meat-preserving establishments have commenced operations.”
“Quite so, my dear sir, quite so,” assented Mr. Shrood, looking paternally at him and rubbing his hands, “I am quite of your opinion; but some of our directors have doubts—have doubts. Would you mind looking in before you go—say in a week or two? Thanks. Good-day—good-day.”