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Updated: July 22, 2025
One glorious spring morning, Hugh Gordon was sitting in his office every squatter and station-manager has an office waiting with considerable impatience the coming of the weekly mail. The office looked like a blend of stationer's shop, tobacconist's store, and saddlery warehouse.
"Because I can't bear being with you and near you all day long, when I care for you, and you don't care for me. I can't eat, or sleep, or rest here now, and it's time I was away. You might give me a good character as a station-manager," he went on grimly, "even though I can't catch Red Mick for you. I'll get you to make out my cheque, and then I'll be off up North." She was looking down now.
He would scarcely let us wait to remove our freezing boots before he took us into his house and gave us seats in a warm and comfortable room. We were in no condition to sit in anybody's house until we had washed and got into clean clothes, but the kindness of the station-manager was proof even against the unpleasantness of being in a room with us.
"I don't like to correct you, Alf," I interposed; "but I understood you to say that your father was a station-manager, on the Queensland border. "Up to the time I was twenty-one or twenty-two.
The station-manager, with a handful of papers and a pencil behind his ear, hurried here and there, followed by some of the crowd, who asked him questions which he did n't answer. Dad asked him if this was the place where the sale was to be. He looked all over Dad. A man rang a bell violently, shouting, "This way for the dairy cows!"
Now, in the Territory everybody knows everybody else, but particularly the telegraph people; and it often happens that when telegrams of general interest are passing through, they are accompanied by confidential asides little scraps of harmless gossip not intended for the departmental books; therefore it was whispered in the tail of the last message that the Katherine was watching the fight with interest was inclined to "reckon the missus a goer," and that public sympathy was with the stockman the Katherine had its women-folk and was thankful; but the Katherine knew that although a woman in a settlement only rules her husband's home, the wife of a station-manager holds the peace and comfort of the stockmen in the hollow of her hand.
Dad rushed "Dummy." "Three poun' ten," he said, eagerly. The auctioneer rushed Dad. "YOURS," he said, bringing his hammer down with a bang; "you deserve her, old man!" And the station-manager chuckled and took Dad's name and Dad's money. Dad was very pleased, and eager to start home.
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