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He's a pretty clever colt, too. The timber is tremendous thick in that paddick, and he never hit me against anything. Binjie reckons any other colt'd have killed me. Come on up to the house, or he'll have my saddle smashed before I get him."
Miss Grant went in and found Mrs. Gordon at her jam-making. "Well, and have you found anything to amuse you?" asked the old lady in her soft, even voice. "Oh, I've had quite a lot of experiences; and I went for a walk and met Poss. Who is Poss?" The old lady laughed as she gave the jam a stir. "He's a young Hunter," she said. "Was Binjie there?" "No; and he isn't coming either; he has work to do.
Poss and Binjie were each riding a station horse to "take the flashness out of him," and Binjie's horse tried to buck him off, but might as well have tried to shed his own skin; so he bolted instead, and disappeared with a snort and a rattle of hoofs over the hill. The others followed, with their horses very much inclined to go through the same performance.
"He can't get out of the paddick," drawled the youth. "Let's go up to the house, and get one of the boys to run him in. He had a go-in this morning with me the bit came out of his mouth somehow, and he did get to work proper. He went round and round the paddick at home, with me on him, buckin' like a brumby. Binjie had to come out with another horse and run me back into the yard.
On Monday, Hugh, Poss, and Binjie had to go out to an outlying paddock to draft a lot of station-sheep from a mob of travelling-sheep. As this meant a long, hard job, the three breakfasted by candlelight a good old fashion, this, but rather forgotten lately and Blake also turned out for early breakfast, as he wanted to get his drive to Tarrong over while the weather was cool.
As she spoke, the tramp of a horse's hoofs was heard in the yard and, looking out, Miss Grant saw a duplicate of Poss dismounting from a duplicate of Poss's horse. And Mrs. Gordon, looking over her shoulder, said, "Here's Binjie. I thought he'd be here before long." "Why do they call him Binjie?" asked Miss Grant, watching the new arrival tying up his horse. "What does it mean?"
"It's a blackfellow's word, meaning stomach," said the old lady. "He used to be very fat, and the name stuck to him. Good day, Binjie!" "Good day, Mrs. Gordon. Hugh at home?" "No, he won't be back till dark," said the old lady. "Won't you let your horse go?" "Well, I don't know if I can," replied the new arrival thoughtfully.
He looked with boyish admiration at Miss Grant, who immediately stooped to conquer, and began an animated conversation about nothing in particular a conversation which was broken in upon by one of the girls. "Where is Binjie?" she asked. "Isn't he coming over?" "Not he," said the youth, with an air of great certainty. We're busy over at our place, I tell you.
Their father well, he isn't very steady; and they like to get over here when they can, and each tries to come without the other knowing it. Binjie will be here before long, I expect. Poor fellows, it must be very dull for them over there. Fancy, week after week without seeing anyone but their father, the station-hands, and the sheep! Now that you're here, I expect they'll come more than ever."
"Then," she said firmly, gathering up the reins in her daintily gloved hands as she spoke, "I'm going with you. I'm just as good a witness as Poss or Binjie." "No, no, no," said Hugh, "that won't do. There may be a row. It's a rough sort of place, and a rough lot of people. Now look here, Miss Grant, oblige me and go home. The horse will take you straight back." Her eyes glowed with excitement.
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