But
Steelman gave him to understand (as between themselves) that he wasn't
taking on any pupils just then.

An Incident at Stiffner's

They called him "Stiffner" because he used, long before, to get a living
by poisoning wild dogs near the Queensland border. The name stuck to
him closer than misfortune did, for when he rose to the proud and
independent position of landlord and sole proprietor of an out-back pub
he was Stiffner still, and his place was "Stiffner's"--widely known.

They do say that the name ceased not to be applicable--that it fitted
even better than in the old dingo days, but--well, they do say so. All
we can say is that when a shearer arrived with a cheque, and had a drink
or two, he was almost invariably seized with a desire to camp on the
premises for good, spend his cheque in the shortest possible time, and
forcibly shout for everything within hail--including the Chinaman cook
and Stiffner's disreputable old ram.

The shanty was of the usual kind, and the scenery is as easily disposed
of. There was a great grey plain stretching away from the door in front,
and a mulga scrub from the rear; and in that scrub, not fifty yards from
the kitchen door, were half a dozen nameless graves.

Stiffner was always drunk, and Stiffner's wife--a hard-featured
Amazon--was boss. The children were brought up in a detached cottage,
under the care of a "governess".

Stiffner had a barmaid as a bait for chequemen. She came from Sydney,
they said, and her name was Alice. She was tall, boyishly handsome, and
characterless; her figure might be described as "fine" or "strapping",
but her face was very cold--nearly colourless. She was one of those
selfishly sensual women--thin lips, and hard, almost vacant grey eyes;
no thought of anything but her own pleasures, none for the man's. Some
shearers would roughly call her "a squatter's girl". But she "drew";
she was handsome where women are scarce--very handsome, thought a
tall, melancholy-looking jackeroo, whose evil spirit had drawn him to
Stiffner's and the last shilling out of his pocket.

Over the great grey plain, about a fortnight before, had come "Old
Danny", a station hand, for his semi-annual spree, and one "Yankee Jack"
and his mate, shearers with horses, travelling for grass; and, about a
week later, the Sydney jackeroo. There was also a sprinkling of assorted
swagmen, who came in through the scrub and went out across the plain,
or came in over the pl