"Good-morning, young fellow; good-morning. By Jove, that is a splendid horse you have there. Are you travelling far? Surely you don't mean to take your horses along in this weather. Why it is too hot for a white man, too hot entirely. Come in and have a bit of dinner; it is all ready. I won't charge you; I never charged a b—— man for a feed yet. I do not think it right, do you?"
Pressed in this way, I went inside; but my suspicions that was a robbers' den in disguise were aroused, and if I had not felt sure of myself I should probably have preferred to dash the spurs into the horses and tear away; but although I thanked him for his hospitality and agreed with him that it was very wrong to charge a man for food, yet I made up my mind that he would have to be clever to outwit me. On the verandah sat a forbidding-looking man on his swag, and I saw at once that he was a poor swagsman who need have no fear of being robbed. In the bar were three men standing drinking, but yet moderately sober. The publican began to bustle about behind the bar. I kept one eye on him and one on the horses. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed before a blackfellow made his appearance outside, and began to lead my horses away. I went outside and took them from him.
"Are you taking my horses away?" cried I; "don't do it again." I used a little more persuasion, but it does not look well in print.
"Master said I take him Yarraman along-a-paddock," whined the blackfellow.
Now the publican came out again.
"What is the matter?" cried he. "I told him to take and give the horses a feed; they look as if they needed it."
"Not at all," said I; "they have had a month's spell, and I can scarcely hold them."
"All right, you know best. Are you going to have a drink?"
"Yes," I said, "I don't mind."
"What is it going to be?"