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I turned my back and pretended to tighten the straps and girths on the packhorse while she said good-bye to Jack. I heard her speaking earnestly to him, and once I heard her mention Peter M’Laughlan’s name. I thought Jack answered rather impatiently. “Oh, that’s all right, Clara,” he said, “that’s all over–past and gone. I wish you would believe it. You promised never to speak of that any more.”

I know how it was. Jack never cared to hear about Peter; he was too ashamed of the past, perhaps; besides, deep down, we feel a sort of resentment towards any reference to a man who has helped or saved us in the past. It’s human nature.

Then they spoke in low tones for a while, and then Jack laughed, and kissed her, and said, “Oh, I’ll be back before the time’s up.” Then he ran into the house to say good-bye to Mary’s sister, who was staying with her, and who was laid up with a sprained ankle.

Then Clara stepped up to me and laid her fingers on my shoulder. I trembled from head to foot and hoped she didn’t notice it.

“Joe,” she said, looking at me with her big, searching grey eyes, “I believe I can trust you. I want you to look after Jack. You know why. Never let him have one drink if you can help it. One drink–the first drink will do it. I want you to promise me that you will never have a drink with Jack, no matter what happens or what he says.”

“I never will,” I said, and I meant it.

“It’s the first time he’s been away from me since he gave up drinking, and if he comes back all right this time I will be sure of him and contented. But, Joe, if he comes back wrong it will kill me; it will break my heart. I want you to promise that if anything happens you will ride or wire for Peter M’Laughlan. I hear he’s wool-sorting this year at Beenaway Station. Promise me that if anything happens you will ride for Peter M’Laughlan and tell him, no matter what Jack says.”

“I promise,” I said.

She half-held out her hand to me, but I kept both mine behind my back. I suppose she thought I didn’t notice that she wanted to shake hands on the bargain; but the truth was that my hands shook so, and I didn’t want her to notice that.

I got on my horse and felt steadier. Then, “Good-bye, Clara”–“Good-bye, Jack.” She bore up bravely, but I saw her eyes brimming. Jack got on his horse, and I bent over and shook hands with her. Jack bent down and kissed her while she stood on tiptoe. “Good-bye, little woman,” he said. “Cheer up, and I’ll be back before you know where you are! You mustn’t fret–you know why.”

“Good-bye, Jack!”–she was breaking down.

“Come on, Jack!” I said, and we rode off, turning and waving our hats to her as she stood by the gate, looking a desolate little thing, I thought, till we turned down a bend of the road into the river.

As we jogged along with the packhorse trotting behind us, and the quart-pots and hobble-chains jingling on the packsaddle, I pictured Clara running inside, to cry a while in her sister’s arms, and then to bustle round and cheer up, for Jack’s sake–and for the sake of something else.

“I’ll christen him after you, Joe,” said Jack, later on, when we’d got confidential over our pipes after tea in our first camp. It never seemed to enter his head that there was the ghost of a chance that it might be a girl. “I’m glad he didn’t come along when I was drinking,” he said.

And as we lay rolled in our blankets under the stars I swore a big oath to myself.