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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Aye, sure, it is him thrue enuff," said Mick, stooping down and raising up the prostrate figure in his arms. "Them murdering thayves hev kilt the poor cap'en entoirely!" Mick's dead man, however, did a most extraordinary thing for one who was supposed to have departed this life. He first sneezed, and then opened his eyes. Next he spoke.
Six weeks ravin' and roarin' as bould as a lion, and as mad as Mick Malony's pig, that mistuck Mick's wig for a cabbage, and died of atin' it!" "And have I then lost my senses?" I exclaimed feebly. "Sure, didn't ye call me your beautiful Donna Anna only yesterday, and catch hould of me whiskers as if they were the Signora's jet-black ringlets?" Lanty cried.
It was Gilbert of the Lost Range who spoke. "I've heard of him," commented one of the cowboys. "I guess we all have," added another. Again Mick's eye, like a flashlight, passed from man to man. "Well," he announced, "I may be wrong, but I've got reason to believe it was Tom Blair who did the job last night, and that he's somewhere this side the river right now."
He delayed so long over his farewells to us that we began to fear he'd never catch up with the other emigrants, for the road to the city was studded with the abodes of Mick's friends, whom he had yet to call upon.
Mac was not so keen to hurry back, but the fortnight's rest from the line and better food had set him to rights, and he fell in eventually with Mick's suggestion. They approached an old M.O., who pushed them through without ever getting suspicious about Mick, and two hours later in the early afternoon they were bumping over the open country in a Ford ambulance towards the landing-place.
'You look so foolish getting out of one of them rattletrap coaches, he said, 'and everybody axing whether you're going to pick for yourself or buy a share in a claim. I'm all for walking, if it ain't beneath you. They declared themselves quite ready to walk, and under Mick's guidance they went out and bought two large red blankets and two pannikins.
"Me see um track other black fella," he said. "Ranui, Ted, Teedee, they join those other black fella. Go 'way Go right 'way. Me think they no come back." Suddenly the meaning of it all flashed into Mick's mind. "And the horses?" he asked eagerly. "What name the horses?" Yarloo did not answer.
Mick's departure need not have left her desolate, since she had another son and daughter at home, besides Essie married in the village, and Brian settled down at Murghadeen, here he was doing well, and times and again asking her to come and live with him.
They pushed on until almost abreast of Red Mick's dwelling; then Hugh, standing on a projecting stump, peered over the high bank to see how the land lay, while his companion sat down and watched his movements with wide open eyes. He saw the cottage drowsing in the bright afternoon sunlight.
They were now in their third week, and the word whisky had never been pronounced between them. At this moment, when Mick's triumphant ejaculation was uttered, they were all lying in bed. It shall be called bed by way of compliment.
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