“Just as well. Xavier! Hell! Bony will do me. Come on, we’ve only got forty seconds. Shoot in that tucker, Mrs Poole. Come on. Get going.”

In the dining-room between kitchen and shop the two men ate rapidly. Hurley, Bony observed, was not much beyond thirty years old. He liked his open face, lined and tanned by the sun and lit with the optimism of youth.

“I’m the boundary rider on this section of the rabbit fence,” Hurley explained between bursts of rapid mastication. “I’ve got two hundred miles of it to attend to-a hundred miles north and south of Burracoppin. When the depression crash came all hands bar ex-soldiers were sacked. Hell-uv-a job. For each Sunday on the job I get a day off here. But I’mworkin ’ today, as the farm push are short-handed, and there’s a chaff order to be sent away. Hey, Mrs Poole, my lunch ready?”

“I’mcuttin ’ it now.”

“Make it big. I haven’t time to eat a decent breakfast.” From the railway yard came the sound of a petrol engine. Through the window they saw the motor-propelled trolley sliding away loaded with permanent-way workers.“Hurry! Hurry! The Snake Charmers have gone. If I’m sacked for being late I’ll murder your husband and take his place. And I won’t get up and light the fire for you. I’ll kick you out of bed.”

A tin rattled. The whirlwind rushed out. There was silence. Then Mrs Poole’s voice was raised urging someone to get up and fetch the cows before Mrs Black got them and “sneaked” the milk. She came to the door.

“Don’t you hurry, MrBony. The inspector isn’tso sharp as Eric makes out. Yousee, my other boarders all work about the town and never come to breakfast till a quarter to eight. This place is easier when Joe’s at home, what with the woodcutting and the cows, an’ that Mrs Black who always tries to milk them first. And I’ve been busy lately. I’ve had two policemen staying here ever since poor Mr Loftus disappeared. They are gone now, back to Perth.”

“Oh!”