"Mr. King still has it in his eye; but it's gaff, and he has found a better show than mine. A-haw, haw, haw! A-haw!"
"We've missed you gentlemen since you went," Mrs. Gregory followed up, looking hard at the visitors. "Haven't we, Moll?"
"Dunno. What's this, Mick? Did you bring along your music? Good lad!"
O'Neill picked up an accordion from the floor. "You said you liked a bit of fun. I thought to knock a tune or two out later on."
"That's what we want here," cried Gregory very loud. "Do you think you could find mine, mother; or was it broke up?"
"Have a look in the tent. It was under the stretcher last."
In a little while Gregory came from the tent blowing the dust from his accordion, and the rest of the evening passed on speedy heels with song and tune and dance. The dust was kicked out of the earth floor by stepping feet, and sounds of "hurrah" startled the elderly night. Faces flushed; voices grew loud. Gregory swung on his box, opening and closing his arms, knocking the sweat from his forehead, and sending abroad his "A-haw." Mrs. Gregory grown amiable watched from the back, and busied herself presently boiling a kettle of water.
Power left the hut for the homeward road ere the merrymaking was worn out. The music followed him through the dark, as he saddled and bitted his horse. He had made ready soon, and had turned the beast home. A soft bed waited him at Kaloona instead of the couch of grasses that had been his portion for the week. But maybe he was to sleep no better because of it.