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‘”Good day, mates,” he said.

‘”Good day,” we said.

‘”It’s hot.”

‘”It’s hot.”

‘We went into the bar, and Poisonous got behind the counter.

‘”What are you going to have?” he asked, rubbing up his glasses with a rag.

‘We had two long-beers.

‘”Never mind that,” said Poisonous, seeing me put my hand in my pocket; “it’s my shout. I don’t suppose your boss is back yet? I saw him go in to Mulgatown this morning.”

‘”No, he ain’t back,” I said; “I wish he was. We’re getting tired of waiting for him. We’ll give him another hour, and then some of us will have to ride in to see whether he’s got on the boose, and get hold of him if he has.”

‘”I suppose you’re waiting for your cheques?” he said, turning to fix some bottles on the shelf.

‘”Yes,” I said, “we are;” and I winked at Jim, and Jim winked back as solemn as an owl.

‘Poisonous asked us all about the trip, and how long we’d been on the track, and what sort of a boss we had, dropping the questions offhand now an’ then, as for the sake of conversation. We could see that he was trying to get at the size of our supposed cheques, so we answered accordingly.

‘”Have another drink,” he said, and he filled the pewters up again. “It’s up to me,” and he set to work boring out the glasses with his rag, as if he was short-handed and the bar was crowded with customers, and screwing up his face into what I suppose he considered an innocent or unconscious expression. The girl began to sidle in and out with a smart frock and a see-you-after-dark smirk on.

‘”Have you had dinner?” she asked. We could have done with a good meal, but it was too risky–the drovers’ boss might come along while we were at dinner and get into conversation with Poisonous. So we said we’d had dinner.

‘Poisonous filled our pewters again in an offhand way.

‘”I wish the boss would come,” said Jim with a yawn. “I want to get into Mulgatown to-night, and I want to get some shirts and things before I go in. I ain’t got a decent rag to me back. I don’t suppose there’s ten bob amongst the lot of us.”

‘There was a general store back on the creek, near the drovers’ camp.

‘”Oh, go to the store and get what you want,” said Poisonous, taking a sovereign from the till and tossing it on to the counter. “You can fix it up with me when your boss comes. Bring your mates along.”

‘”Thank you,” said Jim, taking up the sovereign carelessly and dropping it into his pocket.

‘”Well, Jim,” I said, “suppose we get back to camp and see how the chaps are getting on?”

‘”All right,” said Jim.

‘”Tell them to come down and get a drink,” said Poisonous; “or, wait, you can take some beer along to them if you like,” and he gave us half a gallon of beer in a billy-can. He knew what the first drink meant with Bushmen back from a long dry trip.

‘We got on our horses, I holding the billy very carefully, and rode back to where our swags were.

‘”I say,” said Jim, when we’d strapped the swags to the saddles, “suppose we take the beer back to those chaps: it’s meant for them, and it’s only a fair thing, anyway–we’ve got as much as we can hold till we get into Mulgatown.”

‘”It might get them into a row,” I said, “and they seem decent chaps. Let’s hang the billy on a twig, and that old swagman that’s coming along will think there’s angels in the Bush.”

‘”Oh! what’s a row?” said Jim. “They can take care of themselves; they’ll have the beer anyway and a lark with Poisonous when they take the can back and it comes to explanations. I’ll ride back to them.”

‘So Jim rode back to the drovers’ camp with the beer, and when he came back to me he said that the drovers seemed surprised, but they drank good luck to him.