"What's he like?" said Gillespie. "Anything like the gentleman that
wanted the shearers killed?"
"Oh, no; a good fellow," said the Bo'sun, taking a sip of sherry.
"He manages stations for Grant, and the old man has kept him out on
the back-stations nearly all his life. He was out in the Gulf-country
in the early days--got starved out in droughts, swept away in
floods, lost in the bush, speared by blacks, and all that sort of
thing, in the days when men camped under bushes and didn't wear
shirts. Gone a bit queer in the head, I think, but a good chap for
all that."
"How did this Grant make all his money" asked Gillespie. "He's
awfully well off, isn't he? Stations everywhere? Is he any relation
to Gordon?"
"No; old Gordon--Charlie's father--used to have the money. He had
a lot of stations in the old days, and employed Grant as a manager.
Grant was a new chum Scotchman with no money, but a demon for hard
work, and the most headstrong, bad-tempered man that ever lived--hard
to hold at any time. After he'd worked for Gordon for awhile he
went to the diggings and made a huge pile; and when old Gordon got
a bit short of cash he took Grant into partnership."
"It must have been funny for a man to have his old manager as a
partner!"
"It wasn't at all funny for Gordon," said the lawyer, grimly.
"Anything but funny. They each had stations of their own outside
the partnership, and all Gordon's stations went wrong, and Grant's
went right. It never seemed to rain on Gordon's stations, while
Grant's had floods. So Gordon got short of money again and borrowed
from Grant, and when he was really in a fix Grant closed on him
and sold him out for good and all."
"What an old screw! What did he do that for?"
"Just pure obstinacy--Gordon had contradicted him or something, so
he sold him up just to show which was right."
"And what did Gordon do after he was sold up?"
"Died, and didn't leave a penny. So then Bully Grant wheeled round
and gave Gordon's widow a station to live on, and fixed the two
sons up managing his stations. Goodness knows how much he's worth
now. Doesn't even know it himself."
"And has he no children? Was he ever married?"
The lawyer lit a cigarette and puffed at it.
"He went to England and got married; there's a daughter. The wife's
dead; the daughter is in England still--never been out here. There's
a story that before he made his money he married a bush girl up
on the station, but no one believes that. The daughter in England
will get everything when he dies. A chance for you, Gillespie. Go
home and marry her--she'll be worth nearly a million of money."