Breakfast was despatched almost in silence. The shooters knew
vaguely that Hugh's visit was in some way connected with Considine,
and that Considine had refused to do what Hugh wanted. But the
hospitality of the buffalo camp is as the hospitality of the Arabs
of old--the stranger is made welcome whatever his business, and
may come and go unquestioned.
Hugh had little desire to talk on the subject of his visit, and
Considine maintained a dogged silence. Tommy Prince alone chatted
away affably between large mouthfuls of buffalo beef, damper, and
tea, airing his views on all subjects, but principally on the fair
sex. Meanwhile the blacks were catching the pack-horses, and
sharpening their skinning knives. The two horses used by the shooters
were brought over to the camp fire and given a small feed each of
much-prized maize and oats and bran, that had been brought round
in the lugger from Port Faraway with the camp supplies, landed on
the river-bank twelve miles off, and fetched in on pack-horses.
"A little more beef, Mister? No? Well, all aboard for the Buffalo
Brigade! That's your rifle by the tree. Put this cartridge-belt on
and buckle it real tight; if you leave it loose, when you start to
gallop it will shake up and down, and shake the soul out of you.
Come, Paddy, what are you riding?"
"I'm going to ride the boco.
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