The transport-rider stood up.
"Did you see the train, Jimmy?"
"Yes."
"Ain't nobody drunk?"
"Not very."
"The train's in and nobody drunk? I'll get drunk. I will get drunk."
And with that he danced round and round the bar waving his glass. "The
train! The train! The train!" ... Crash!
Everyone turned round. John Rogers, transport-rider of Tantani, had
fallen, and lay on the floor insensible.
"Rogers drunk?" came in a chorus of incredulity from all quarters. No
one stooped to examine him; perhaps because few besides William and the
barman felt it quite safe to stoop. Then several of his fellows pushed
him under a seat with their feet, and turned to the bar again.
"Poor old Rogers," they said, "who would have thought it? Must be
breaking up. Used to keep goin' for days together without turnin' a
hair. Poor old blighter. Train's taken his transport-ridin' away from
him. Yes, that's what's upset him."
But William met Rogers next morning, quite himself again.
"Morning, boy."
"Good morning."
"Jimmy gave me my money back."
"Of course."
"Have you got a job?"
"No."
"Looking for one?"
"Yes."
"Well, come my next journey with me. I'll go on the strict t.t. I'll
show you some good shooting, too, and I want a hefty young man to help
me with my cattle. Jimmy told me he thought you'd come. I want you to
come."
William went, and a partnership sprang up which resulted in profit to
both.
Rogers and Blake own that large cattle ranch just beyond Belingwe.
Rogers must be nearly seventy now, and is still hale and hearty.