Dave felt real regret in breaking camp, for the simple life they had been leading there appealed to him greatly after many weeks of hard work at sea. “Some day I’d like to come back and spend another holiday here,” he said. “Rubbish,” replied Tempest. “The world’s full of places like this if you only take the trouble to find ’em. Don’t worry. That’s my motto. Take things as they come, and you can’t help enjoying yourself. If I had a million dollars for every little camp like that that I’ve had a good time in, I should be quite rich, but I shouldn’t be nearly as happy, because I’d have to spend most of my time wondering how to spend the millions. There’s nothing like having an easy conscience and nothing to bother about.” After breakfast they packed up a huge parcel of sandwiches, for it was extremely doubtful where their next meal was to come from, and then set off in quest of further adventure. CHAPTER IX UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS “They can’t call us sundowners, with this grub on board,” Tempest said, shouldering the parcel. “I don’t mind having a lazy time now and again when I’ve earned it, but no man breathing shall call me a sundowner.” “What’s that,” asked Dave, trudging along. “A sundowner, my son, is a peculiar breed of creature that would as soon fondle a rattlesnake as do a day’s work. He is born tired and never gets over it. He faints right away at the sight of a pick or shovel; and if he should happen to do an honest day’s labor, he talks about it for years afterward. He has reduced the art of dodging work to a science. Most all farms in Australia will give a man a square meal and some sort of place to sleep in in return for a few hours’ help, but the sundowner is foxy. When he sees a farm on the horizon he lies down and basks till evening. Then, just when it’s getting dark and too late for him to be put to anything useful in the fields, he rolls up for free board and lodging.” “Talking of somewhere to sleep,” Dave said, “can you tell me where we are likely to spend the night?” Tempest laughed. “It’s about ten hours too early even to think of that,” he said; “and anyway we don’t need to worry, or else we sha’n’t sleep so well. What’s wrong with a hay-stack for a bed? Once you’re fast asleep you might be there just as well as in the best bed money can buy.” The two amateur tramps had a total of thirty miles to walk to reach Albany, and more than half that distance had been covered by the time they decided to halt for the night. A barn containing plenty of dry hay stood temptingly near. “What could one want better than that?” Tempest asked, after a brief inspection of the place. “There’s no electric light, but one mustn’t expect too much at the price, and there’s a full moon. Neither of us will need rocking to sleep to-night, and we shall want a good rest, because we have a big walk in front of us to-morrow.”