for Peter if anything happens. Ride for Peter M'Laughlan."

There were drunken shearers, horsemen and swagmen sleeping all over the
place, and in all sorts of odd positions; some on the veranda with their
heads on their swags, one sitting back against the wall, and one on the
broad of his back with his head on the bare boards and his mouth open.
There was another horse rolling in its saddle, and I took the saddle
off. The horse belonged to an English University man.

I went in to see how Jack was. He was lying in the parlour on a little,
worn-out, horse-hair sofa, that might have seen better days in some
clean home in the woman-and-girl world. He had been drinking and playing
cards till early that morning, and he looked awful--he looked as if he'd
been boozing for a month.

"See what you've done!" he said, sitting up and glaring at me; then he
said, "Bring me a whisky-and-soda, Joe, for God's sake!"

I got a whisky-and-soda from the girl and took it to him.

I talked to him for a while, and at last he said, "Well, go and get the
horses and we'll start."

I got the horses ready and brought them round to the front, but by
that time he'd had more drink, and he said he wanted to sleep before he
started. Next he was playing cards with one of the chaps, and asked me
to wait till he'd finished that game. I knew he'd keep promising and
humbugging me till there was a row, so at last I got him aside and said:

"Look here, Jack, I'm going for Peter M'Laughlan----"

"Go to hell!" said Jack.

I put the other horses back in the yard, the saddles in the skillion,
got on my horse and rode off. Thomas and the others asked me no
questions, they took no notice. In a place like that a man could almost
do anything, short of hanging himself, without anyone interfering or
being surprised. And probably, if he did hang himself, they'd let him
swing for a while to get a taste of it.

Comesomehow was about fifteen miles back on a track off the main road. I
reckoned that I could find Peter and bring him on by the afternoon, and
I rode hard, sick as I was. I was too sick to smoke.

As it happened, Peter had started early from his last camp and I caught
him just as he was turning off into Comesomehow track.

"What's up, Joe?" he asked as I rode up to him--but he could see.

"Jack Barnes is on the booze at Thomas's," I said.

Peter just looked right through me. Then he turned his horse's head
without a word, and rode back with me. And