"I ain't had anythin' to do with them," said the Giraffe, drawling
again. "I ain't a cove that goes in for that sort of thing. But
other chaps has, and I think they might as well help 'em out of their
fix."

"They're a rotten crowd," said Billy Woods. "You don't know them,
Bob. Don't bother about them-they're not worth it. Put your money in
your pocket. You'll find a better use for it before next shearing."

"Better shout, Giraffe," said Box-o'-Tricks.

Now in spite of the Giraffe's softness he was the hardest man in
Bourke to move when he'd decided on what he thought was "the fair
thing to do." Another peculiarity of his was that on occasion, such
for instance as "sayin' a few words" at a strike meeting, he would
straighten himself, drop the twang, and rope in his drawl, so to
speak.

"Well, look here, you chaps," he said now. "I don't know anything
about them women. I s'pose they're bad, but I don't suppose they're
worse than men has made them. All I know is that there's four women
turned out, without any stuff, and every woman in Bourke, an' the
police, an' the law agen 'em. An' the fact that they is women is
agenst 'em most of all. You don't expect 'em to hump their swags to
Sydney! Why, only I ain't got the stuff I wouldn't trouble yer. I'd
pay their fares meself. Look," he said, lowering his voice, "there
they are now, an' one of the girls is cryin'. Don't let 'em see yer
lookin'."