, and sent it round. The boys
contributed by force of habit, and contributed largely, because of the
victory and the beer. And when the hat came back to the Giraffe, he
stood holding it in front of him with both hands and stared blankly into
it for a while. Then it dawned on him.

"Blowed if I haven't bin an' gone an' took up a bloomin' collection for
meself!" he said.

He was almost a teetotaller, but he stood his shout in reason. He
mostly drank ginger beer.

"I ain't a feller that boozes, but I ain't got nothin' agen chaps
enjoyin' themselves, so long as they don't go too far."

It was common for a man on the spree to say to him:

"Here! here's five quid. Look after it for me, Giraffe, will yer, till I
git off the booze.

"His real name was Bob Brothers, and his bush names, 'Long-'un,' 'The
Giraffe,' 'Send-round-the-hat,' 'Chuck-in-a-bob,' and 'Ginger-ale.'"

Some years before, camels and Afghan drivers had been imported to the
Bourke district; the camels did very well in the dry country, they
went right across country and carried everything from sardines to
flooring-boards. And the teamsters loved the Afghans nearly as much as
Sydney furniture makers love the cheap Chinese in the same line.
They love 'em even as union shearers on strike love blacklegs brought
up-country to take their places.

Now the Giraffe was a good, straight unionist, but in cases of sickness
or trouble he was as apt to forget his unionism, as all bushmen are, at
all times (and for all time), to forget their creed. So, one evening,
the Giraffe blundered into the Carriers' Arms--of all places in the
world--when it was full of teamsters; he had his hat in his hand and
some small silver and coppers in it.

"I say, you fellers, there's a poor, sick Afghan in the camp down there
along the--"

A big, brawny bullock-driver took him firmly by the shoulders, or,
rather by the elbows, and ran him out before any damage was done. The
Giraffe took it as he took most things, good-humouredly; but, about
dusk, he was seen slipping down towards the Afghan camp with a billy of
soup.

"I believe," remarked Tom Hall, "that when the Giraffe goes to
heaven--and he's the only one of us, as far as I can see, that has a
ghost of a show--I believe that when he goes to heaven, the first
thing he'll do will be to take his infernal hat round amongst the
angels--getting up a collection for this damned world that he left
behind."

"Well, I don't think there