's so much to his credit, after all," said
Jack Mitchell, shearer. "You see, the Giraffe is ambitious; he likes
public life, and that accounts for him shoving himself forward with
his collections. As for bothering about people in trouble, that's only
common curiosity; he's one of those chaps that are always shoving their
noses into other people's troubles. And, as for looking after sick
men--why! there's nothing the Giraffe likes better than pottering round
a sick man, and watching him and studying him. He's awfully interested
in sick men, and they're pretty scarce out here. I tell you there's
nothing he likes better--except, maybe, it's pottering round a corpse. I
believe he'd ride forty miles to help and sympathize and potter round
a funeral. The fact of the matter is that the Giraffe is only enjoying
himself with other people's troubles--that's all it is. It's only vulgar
curiosity and selfishness. I set it down to his ignorance; the way he
was brought up."

A few days after the Afghan incident the Giraffe and his hat had a run
of luck. A German, one of a party who were building a new wooden bridge
over the Big Billabong, was helping unload some girders from a truck at
the railway station, when a big log slipped on the skids and his leg
was smashed badly. They carried him to the Carriers' Arms, which was
the nearest hotel, and into a bedroom behind the bar, and sent for the
doctor. The Giraffe was in evidence as usual.

"It vas not that at all," said German Charlie, when they asked him if he
was in much pain. "It vas not that at all. I don't cares a damn for der
bain; but dis is der tird year--und I vas going home dis year--after der
gontract--und der gontract yoost commence!"`

That was the burden of his song all through, between his groans. There
were a good few chaps sitting quietly about the bar and veranda when the
doctor arrived. The Giraffe was sitting at the end of the counter, on
which he had laid his hat while he wiped his face, neck, and forehead
with a big speckled "sweatrag." It was a very hot day.

The doctor, a good-hearted young Australian, was heard saying something.
Then German Charlie, in a voice that rung with pain:

"Make that leg right, doctor--quick! Dis is der tird pluddy year--und I
must go home!"

The doctor asked him if he was in great pain. "Neffer mind der pluddy
bain, doctor! Neffer mind der pluddy bain! Dot vas nossing. Make dat leg
well quick, doctor. Dis vas der last gontract, a