“You!” The old man stared at him. “Ain't 'ad a quarrel with yer dad, 'ave yer? You take my tip, if yer 'ave--go back and make it up. Not many men in this districk like yer dad.”
“I know that, jolly well,” said Jim, laughing. “No--but my friend's a new-chum, and I want to show him something of work on a place like yours. We've been breaking him in on Billabong, but he'll have to take a small place for himself, if he settles, and he'd better see what it's like.”
“I dunno,” said Howard. “Too much of the fine gent about that sort, Mr. Jim. I dunno 'ow I'd get down to orderin' the pair of yous about. An' I ain't got no 'comodation for yous; an' the tucker's not what yous 'ave bin used ter.”
“You needn't let any of that worry you,” said Jim cheerfully. “He isn't a bit of a fine gent, really, and we'll tackle any job that's going. As for accommodation, we've brought our blankets, and, in case you were short of tucker, we've a big piece of corned beef and some bread. I wish you'd try it, Mr. Howard; we don't want pay, and we'll do no end of work. Murty reckons you won't be sorry if you take on Captain Rainham.”
“Oh, Murty says that, does 'e?” asked the old man, visibly cheered. “Well, Murty ain't the man to barrack for a useless new-chum.”
“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.”