"
"He'd fire at you just as soon as look at you, I think," said the
other. "But I don't fancy he wants to stay there much. It's not the
first time he's been broke, so I don't expect he'll take it very
hard. Well, if you won't stay, good-bye and good luck! Give my
best wishes to old Paddy."
They resumed the weary journey, and after another two days' riding
sighted away over the plain a small iron house, gleaming in the
setting sun. "Here we are!" said Charlie. "That's No Man's Land."
The arrival was not inspiriting. They rode their tired horses up
to the low-roofed galvanised-iron house, that looked like a huge
kerosene-tin laid on its side, with a hole cut for a door and two
holes for windows. There was no garden and no fenced yard. It was
stuck down in the middle of the wilderness, glaring forlornly out of
its windows at a wide expanse of dry grass and dull-green bushes.
Behind it was a small duplicate, which served as kitchen and store.
A huge buffalo-head was nailed to a tree near by. In front was a
rail on which were spread riding-saddles, pack-saddles, hobbles,
surcingles, pannikins, bridles, empty bags, and all manner of
horse-gear; and roundabout were a litter of chips, an assortment
of empty tins, bits of bullock-hide, empty cartridge-cases, and
the bare skulls of three or four bullocks, with neat bullet-holes
between the eyes.
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