"It would be better for some coves now, if we'd all been on the same
footin' then. But that we never were. I was overseer at the principal
out-station--a good enough billet in its way--and Minchin was overseer
in at the homestead. But Steel was the boss, damn him, trust Steel to be
the boss!"
"But if the station was his?" queried Langholm. "I suppose it was a
station?" he added, as a furious shower of sparks came from the cutty.
"Was it a station?" the ex-overseer echoed. "Only about the biggest and
the best in the blessed back-blocks--that's all! Only about half the
size of your blessed little old country cut out square! Oh, yes, it was
his all right; bought it for a song after the bad seasons fifteen year
ago, and sold it in the end for a quarter of a million, after making a
fortune off of his clips alone. And what did I get out of it?" demanded
Abel, furiously. "What was my share? A beggarly check same as he give me
the other day, and not a penny more!"
"I don't know how much that was," remarked Langholm; "but if you weren't
a partner, what claim had you on the profits?"
"Aha! that's tellings," said Abel, with a sudden change both of tone
and humor; "that's what I'm here to tell you, if you really want to
know! Rum thing, wasn't it? One night I turn up, like any other swaggy,
humping bluey, and next week I'm overseer on a good screw (I will say
that) and my own boss out at the out-station.
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