or?' asked James. 'Do you want
me to camp out in the scrub and turn up like a blooming sundowner?'

'Oh well,' I said, 'get here at midnight if you like.'

We didn't say anything for a while--just sat and puffed at our pipes.
Then I said,--

'Well, what are you thinking about?'

I'm thinking it's time you got a new hat, the sun seems to get in
through your old one too much,' and he got out of my reach and went to
see about penning the calves. Before we turned in he said,--

'Well, what am I to get out of the job, Joe?'

He had his eye on a double-barrel gun that Franca the gunsmith in
Cudgeegong had--one barrel shot, and the other rifle; so I said,--

'How much does Franca want for that gun?'

'Five-ten; but I think he'd take my single barrel off it. Anyway, I can
squeeze a couple of quid out of Phil Lambert for the single barrel.'
(Phil was his bosom chum.)

'All right,' I said. 'Make the best bargain you can.'

He got his own breakfast and made an early start next morning, to get
clear of any instructions or messages that Mary might have forgotten to
give him overnight. He took his gun with him.

I'd always thought that a man was a fool who couldn't keep a secret
from his wife--that there was something womanish about him. I found out.
Those three days waiting for the buggy were about the longest I ever
spent in my life. It made me scotty with every one and everything;
and poor Mary had to suffer for it. I put in the time patching up the
harness and mending the stockyard and the roof, and, the third morning,
I rode up the ridges to look for trees for fencing-timber. I remember I
hurried home that afternoon because I thought the buggy might get there
before me.

At tea-time I got Mary on to the buggy business.

'What's the good of a single buggy to you, Mary?' I asked. 'There's only
room for two, and what are you going to do with the children when we go
out together?'

'We can put them on the floor at our feet, like other people do. I can
always fold up a blanket or 'possum rug for them to sit on.'

But she didn't take half so much interest in buggy talk as she would
have taken at any other time, when I didn't want her to. Women are
aggravating that way. But the poor girl was tired and not very well, and
both the children were cross. She did look knocked up.

'We'll give the buggy a rest, Joe,' she said. (I thought I heard it
coming then.) 'It seems as far off as ever. I don't know why you want to
ha