‘It occurs to me,’ interposed Mr. Neuchamp, remembering Windsor’s advice, ‘that as I have actually no experience in taking over a herd like this, if Mr. Brandon would kindly act for me in the whole matter, I should be happy to leave the delivery in his and your hands, feeling sure that he could arrange it with you, in my interest, better than I could myself.’ ‘I could have no objection, of course,’ said Parklands. ‘I think it a very good idea on your part; and though Aymer is my oldest friend, yet I fancy no one would accuse him of not doing you justice in such a case as this. I don’t think they’d tell him so, at any rate.’ ‘What a lazy beggar you are in small things, Sparks,’ said Aymer. ‘Why don’t you muster the cattle, and have done with it? And why am I to be exalted into the position of your head stockman, and expected to back you up in all kinds of audacious fabrications in which I have no personal interest?’ ‘Who is lazy now?’ sneered Parklands. ‘Why can’t you oblige Neuchamp and me also; it may be for the last time, for I shall never return from Melbourne alive, if the girls are half as pretty as they used to be. Besides, I give you full power to fix the percentage, inspect the books, knock off the price―anything you like, in fact. As a seller of unparalleled generosity, we can’t be licked.’ ‘I shall feel really grateful, Mr. Brandon,’ said Ernest, ‘if you will consent to be my arbitrator and friend in the business.’ ‘Well,’ said Brandon, stretching his vast frame and rising slowly from the breakfast-table, ‘if both parties combine against me there is nothing but capitulation for it. I surrender. So we may go to work forthwith. There are the books for ten years back―certainly very neatly and regularly kept. Branded, so many; missing, so many; dead, so many; sold, so many. It strikes me, however, that 1 per cent additional might be added to the death-rate.’ ‘All right, old boy, knock it off,’ exclaimed Parklands. ‘Then, as to the brandings, nothing of course counts under six months. I observe that you and Brigalow had a very fair haul of calves about a month ago. I suppose none of them came from those outlying Wanilmah cattle of mine? We’ll scratch _them_ out of the count.’ ‘You be hanged,’ explodes Parklands. ‘I believe that old cattle-stealer, Weenham, that _you_ call an overseer, is a long way on the debit side with me in the calf line. But scratch them out if you like. I hope you’re contented now. I believe you’re standing in with Neuchamp, and met accidentally by appointment at Bilwillia to have me.’ ‘I’ve not quite done with you yet,’ said Brandon calmly, all unheeding of the gradually rising thermometer of Sparks’s temper. ‘What about those Back Lake cattle? It has just occurred to me that the last camp we saw there two years ago, when I helped you muster, contained an unusual number of “pigmeaters,” even for back country. You can’t charge our friend full price for them.’