'd tell me all about the latest yarn from the
verandah--about Slaughter," Tony said.

"Ah," Nuggan exclaimed, "you were a bit surprised to hear it, I take
it? Any one would be who didn't know the man as I did. It didn't
surprise me. No; not much. I've seen it coming for years, bless you. I
didn't talk about it up yonder," he went on, nodding towards Marmot's
store, "because a word up there is as good as fifty next day, and spread
all over the district at that. No; that ain't my style. I saw it, and I
said, 'Nuggan, my boy,' I said, 'this ain't your game. If the girl goes
to the old man, it's his and her game, not yours.'"

"Only she didn't go," Tony said.

"Didn't she? Then perhaps you know more than I do, and can tell me----"

"I can tell you if you put that yarn about you've started as good a
fairy tale as was ever told," Tony interrupted. "Why, Nellie Murray and
Dickson have been thick for----"

"Have they?" Nuggan, in his turn, interrupted. "And you think Dickson
has time for any one now since Yaller-head went out to Barellan? I know,
I do. I don't tell no fairy tales. No more than when I said it was
strange you being the only one at the Flat who wasn't sandy or mousey in
the hair. I don't make no error. I've got eyes, and I uses them."

It was Nuggan's pride to think that Birralong had never been in want of
any information on any subject after reference had been made to him. It
was therefore bitter to hear his latest version of the last local
problem airily dismissed as a fairy tale.

"You've got no call to criticize," he went on, as Tony did not answer.
"If you want to know, I can tell you; and there's a heap of things
you'd give your head to know now, I take it. I've heard many a tale I
don't repeat, and I could make most people look rather foolish if I
wanted to. When you go out to the Flat next time just ask who Mrs. Garry
was. Talk about _my_ fairy tales! Take care you ain't one yourself.
Maybe Yaller-head could give you news about it if she wanted to. Only
she don't, now she's got young Dickson. There ain't no mystery about
where _he_ came from."

He was indignant at the calling in question of his word, and as he
smarted himself, so did he try to make Tony smart. It was true that he
used his eyes, and little escaped them; he might have added that he also
used his imagination, and that what escaped the one was secured, always,
by the other. He fell back as he concluded, in case Tony should score in
re