de a
valuable suggestion, dragged Joe off the sofa and stretched himself
upon it.

Dad went on thinking awhile. "How much," he at last asked, "did
Johnson get for those skins?"

"Which?" Dave answered. "Bears or kangaroos?"

"Bears."

"Five bob, was n't it? Six for some."

"What, A-PIECE?"

"Yairs."

"Why, God bless my soul, what have we been thinking about? FIVE
SHILLINGS? Are you sure?"

"Yairs, rather."

"What, bear-skins worth that and the paddock here and the lanes and the
country over-run with them--FULL of the damn things--HUNDREDS of
them--and we, all this time--all these years--working and slaving and
scraping and-and" (he almost shouted), "DAMN me! What asses we HAVE
been, to be sure." (Dave stared at him.) "Bear-skins FIVE SHILLINGS
each, and----"

"That's all right enough," Dave interrupted, "but----"

"Of COURSE it's all right enough NOW," Dad yelled, "now when we see it."

"But look!" and Dave sat up and assumed an arbitrary attitude. He was
growing suspicious of Dad's ideas. "To begin with, how many bears do
you reckon on getting in a day?"

"In a day"--reflectively--"twenty at the least."

"Twenty. Well, say we only got HALF that, how much d' y' make?"

"MAKE?" (considering). "Two pounds ten a day...fifteen or twenty
pounds a week...yes, TWENTY POUNDS, reckoning at THAT even. And do you
mean to tell ME that we would n't get more than TEN bears a day? Why
we'd get more than that in the lane--get more up ONE tree."

Dave grinned.

"Can't you SEE? DAMN it, boy, are you so DENSE?"

Dave saw. He became enthusiastic. He wondered why it had never struck
us before. Then Dad smiled, and we sat to supper and talked about
bears.

"We'll not bother with that horse NOW," said Dad; "the ploughing can
go; I'm DONE with it. We've had enough poking and puddling about.
We'll start this business straightaway." And the following morning,
headed by the dog and Dad, armed with a tomahawk, we started up the
paddock.

How free we felt! To think we were finished for ever with the raking
and carting of hay--finished tramping up and down beside Dad, with the
plough-reins in our hands, flies in our eyes and burr in our
feet--finished being the target for Dad's blasphemy when the plough or
the horses or the harness went wrong--was delightful! And the
adventure and excitement which this new industry promised operated
strongly upon us. We rioted and careered like hunted brumbies throu