‘Look here!’ said the man of original mould, commencing on the lunch which had been provided for him calmly but with decision, as if the back country that he mentioned had been better provisioned for the quadrupedal than the human part of his equipment. ‘It’s always been a way of mine to act different from other folks in the way of buying and selling stock. I can recollect the markets for many years back. I’ve seen sheep at all prices from a shilling to a guinea, and cattle in proportion. My rule is―I don’t mind telling you, for _you’ll_ never do much in the dealing line―my rule is, to buy when every one wants to sell, to sell when every one tries to hold on; and it’s paid me, so far. That’s good damper of yours; your cook kneads it up well, that’s half the battle.’ ‘He’s not a bad fellow in his way,’ asserted Ernest; ‘but he will soon have very little flour to knead. Drays can’t travel, and we shall have only South American fare directly, beef and water. Certainly we have plenty of pumpkins, that’s the advantage of a garden.’ ‘Couldn’t have a better thing. Lived on them for a year, in ’38,’ said Mr. Levison approvingly. ‘That was something like a drought. If we ever get one like it again it will cook half the stock in the country. We’re that crowded up now that there’s no get-away, as there was then, to the mountains.’ ‘Then you don’t think this season is as bad as can be?’ inquired Ernest. ‘It seems very terrible to me.’ ‘It ain’t as bad as that time unless you’ve lost half your cattle and don’t see no way to save the rest,’ affirmed his guest with mild decision, as if stating some rather agreeable proposition. ‘Whatever shall we do?’ groaned Ernest. ‘I’m half ruined as it is.’ ‘You’ve spent a lot of money on this place, by the look of things as I came along,’ said this mild but uncompromising critic, filling himself another cup of tea with much deliberation. ‘You’ve been and put up a big paddock and a horse-yard and a grand house; and, last night, I’m blessed if I didn’t ride slap into that drain arrangement, miles of it I see there was. Now, I don’t say it’s altogether a waste of money, but when a young man like you buys a place, he has no call to spend a shilling that he can help till he gets it out of the run.’ ‘I can understand the prudence of that policy _now_,’ answered Ernest, half amused, half inclined to resent this extremely plain speech from a comparative stranger, yet comprehending with instinctively clear perception the unaffected friendliness of intuition and truthful habit of his reviewer, ‘but the fat cattle sold so well that I expected to continue paying my way and still improving the property.’