‘I quite envy you,’ said Wilfred. ‘A conflict with natural forces is always exciting. I am quite of your opinion; the great advantage of this Australian life is that a man enjoys the permission of society to work with his hands as well as his head.’
Leaving the water for an isolated wooden building in the neighbourhood of the offices, Mr. Hamilton opened the upper half of a stable-door and discovered to view a noble, dark chestnut thoroughbred in magnificent condition.
‘Here is one of my daily tasks,’ said he, removing the gallant animal’s sheet and patting his neck. ‘In this case it is a labour of love, as I am passionately fond of horses, and have a theory of my own about breeding which I am trying to carry out. Isn’t he a beauty?’
Wilfred, looking at the satin skin of the grand animal before him, thought he had rarely seen his equal.
‘You observe,’ said Hamilton, ‘in this sire, if I mistake not, characteristics not often seen in English studs. Camerton combines the perfect symmetry, the beauty and matchless constitution of the desert Arab with the size and bone of the English thoroughbred.’
‘He does give me that idea, precisely,’ said Wilfred. ‘Wonderful make and shape. His back rib has the cask-like roundness of the true Arab; and what legs and feet! Looking at him you see an enlarged Arab.’
‘His grand-dam was a daughter of The Sheik, an Arab of the purest Seglawee strain of the Nejed, imported from India many years ago by a cavalry officer, whose charger he was. He has besides the Whisker, Gratis, and Emigrant blood. In him we have at once the horse of the new and of the old world—the size and strength of the Camerton type, the symmetry of the Arab, and such legs and feet as might have served Abdjar, the steed of Antar.’
When they re-entered the cottage they saw Mr. Churbett, who had intended to go home that morning, but finding the witty Canon such pleasant reading, thought he would start in the afternoon, finally making up his mind to stay another day and leave punctually after breakfast. There was nothing to do—he observed—and no one to talk to, when he did get home, so there was the less reason for haste.
‘You had better stay, Fred, and go with me to Yass,’ suggested Argyll. ‘I am going there next week, and I daresay you have some business there.’