"
"Great Scott, do you think I am?" demanded Jim, laughing. "Or my
father?"
"Yous cert'nly didn't ought to be," agreed Howard. "All the same"--he
pushed his hat back from his worried brow--"I dunno as I quite like it.
If I take on a chap I like 'im to step quick an' lively when I tell him
anything I want done; an' I don't make no guests of 'em either. They got
to do their own cookin', an' keep things clean an' tidy, too."
"We'll take our share," said Jim. "As for stepping quick and lively,
we've both been trained to that pretty thoroughly during the last few
years. If you're worse than some of the Sergeant-majors I met when I was
training, I'll eat my hat."
"I'm told they're 'ard," said Howard. "Well, I s'pose I'd better take
yous on, though it's a queer day when the son of Linton of Billabong
comes askin' old Joe Howard for a job. But, I say"--and anguish again
settled on his brow--"wot am I to call yous? I can't order you about as
Mr. Jim. It wouldn't seem to come natural."
"Oh, call us any old thing," said Jim, laughing.
The old man pondered.
"Well, I'll call yous Major an' Captin," he declared, at length.
"That'll sound like a pair of workin' bullocks, an' I'll feel more at
'ome."
"Right-o," said Jim, choking slightly. "Where shall we put our horses?"
"Put 'em in the little paddock over there, an' stick yer saddles in the
shed," said his employer.
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