knew
a Jim Carew in England," he said, "and if this is the same man you
will have no trouble taking care of him. He was a great man at his
'Varsity--triple blue, or something of the sort. He can row and run and
fight and play football, and all that kind of thing. Very quiet-spoken
sort of chap--rather pretends to be a simple sort of Johnny, don't
you know, but he's a regular demon, I believe. Got into a row at a
music-hall one night, and threw the chucker-out in among a lot of
valuable pot plants, and irretrievably ruined him."

"Nice sort of man," said the Bo'sun. "I've seen plenty of his sort,
worse luck; he'll be borrowing fivers after the first week. I'll put him
on to you fellows."

The globe-trotter smiled a sickly smile, and changed the subject.
"What's old Grant like--the man he's going to? Squatter man, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, and one of the real old sort, too," interposed Pinnock,
"perfect gentleman, you know, but apt to make himself deuced unpleasant
if everything doesn't go exactly to suit him; sort of chap who thinks
that everyone who doesn't agree with him ought to be put to death at
once. He had a row with his shearers one year, and offered Jack Delaney
a new Purdey gun if he'd fire the first two charges into the shearers'
camp at night."

"Ha!" said Gillespie. "That's his sort, eh? Well, if this Carew is the
Carew I mean, he and the old fellow will be well met. They'll about do
for each other in the first week or two."

"No great loss, either," said the Bo'sun. "Anyhow I've asked this new
chum to dinner to-night, and Charlie Gordon's coming too. He was in my
office to-day, but hadn't heard of the new chum. Gordon's a member now."

"What's he like?" said Gillespie. "Anything like the gentleman that
wanted the shearers killed?"

"Oh, no; a good fellow," said the Bo'sun, taking a sip of sherry. "He
manages stations for Grant, and the old man has kept him out on the
back-stations nearly all his life. He was out in the Gulf-country in the
early days--got starved out in droughts, swept away in floods, lost in
the bush, speared by blacks, and all that sort of thing, in the days
when men camped under bushes and didn't wear shirts. Gone a bit queer in
the head, I think, but a good chap for all that."

"How did this Grant make all his money" asked Gillespie. "He's awfully
well off, isn't he? Stations everywhere? Is he any relation to Gordon?"

"No; old Gordon--Charlie's father--used to have the money. He