"When that 's done, I think I see my way clear; but that's the trouble."
He looked at Dave. Dave seemed as though he had a solution. But Joe spoke.
"Kuk-kuk-could n't y' b-reak in some kang'roos, Dad? There's pul-lenty in th' pup-paddick."
"Could n't you shut up and hold your tongue and clear out of this, you brat?" Dad roared. And Joe hung his head and shut up.
"Well, y' know"—Dave drawled—"there's that colt wot Maloney offered us before to quieten. Could get 'im. 'E 's a big lump of a 'orse if y' could do anythin' with 'im. They gave 'im best themselves."
Dad's eyes shone.
"That's th' horse," he cried. "Get him! To-morrow first thing go for him! I'll make something of him!"
"Don't know"—Dave chuckled—"he 's a "
"Tut, tut; you fetch him."
"Oh, I'll fetch 'im." And Dave, on the strength of having made a valuable suggestion, dragged Joe off the sofa and stretched himself upon it.
Dad went on thinking awhile. "How much," he at last asked, "did Johnson get for those skins?"
"Which?" Dave answered. "Bears or kangaroos?"
"Bears."
"Five bob, wasn't it? Six for some."
