“Of course they would,” acquiesced the elder man. “That is why I am glad to have met you. The fact is, that my chief overseer at Tarragonda Creek--that's one of my sheep stations in New South Wales--has written to me to send him out a young chap who would act as his assistant for a while--a chap whom he could eventually place in charge of one of the farms. Now why on earth he should bother me with this business I don't know, only that O'Gorman--that's the overseer--has a mortal hatred of the native-born Australian: he fancies that he knows too much. I was about to write to him to say that he must manage without me, when it occurred to me that you might be able to help me. What O'Gorman wants is a young fellow who is first and foremost a gentleman--a fellow who knows what a horse is and does not object to be in the saddle all day. If you hear of any one who you think would suit such a billet, I wish you would let me know--only remember, Mr. O'Gorman is a great believer in gentlemen for such posts: he won't have anything to do with stable hands who think to better themselves in a colony.” “Look here, Sir Percival,” cried Cyril, after only a short pause, “I'm dead tired of life in this neighbourhood. I can hear people say, the moment my back is turned, that I'm going straight to the devil, and I can't contradict them. I am going to the devil simply because I thought I was good for nothing but loafing about billiard-rooms. You don't know, Sir Percival, how far I have gone in that direction. Only one person knows what I am guilty of. But I haven't had a chance; and if you only give me one, you'll see if I don't take it.” “Do you mean to say that you'd take the situation yourself?” asked Sir Percival, as if the idea had been sprung upon him. “I see by the way you ask me that you think I'm a conceited cub,” said Cyril. “But I'm not conceited, and--look here, Sir Percival, give me this chance and it will mean the saving of me. You'll not regret it. I was just thinking as I came along here this evening, that there's nothing left for me except to enlist, and by the Lord Harry, if you won't take me I will enlist if only to get away from this place.” “My dear boy, you needn't hold that pistol to my head,” said Sir Percival. “A pistol--what pistol?” said Cyril, in a low tone, taking a step or two back and staring at Sir Percival. “Why, that threat of enlisting. Why need you threaten me with that? I'll give you the chance you ask for without any intimidation. Heavens! If you only knew the relief that it is to me to be able to tell O'Gorman that I have got a man for him. Oh, you and he will get on all right. Of course you'll do just what he tells you, or you'll get your passage paid home by the next steamer.” “Sir Percival,” faltered Cyril, “you've saved me.”