to help the old---," said Tom Hall.

"Well, she was a girl once herself," drawled the Giraffe.

The Giraffe went round to the other pubs and to the union offices, and
when he returned he seemed satisfied with the plate, but troubled
about something else.

"I don't know what to do for them for to-night," he said. "None of
the pubs or boardin'-houses will hear of them, an' there ain't no
empty houses, an' the women is all agen 'em."

"Not all," said Alice, the big, handsome barmaid from Sydney.
"Come here, Bob." She gave the Giraffe half a sovereign and a look
for which some of us would have paid him ten pounds--had we had the
money, and had the look been transferable.

"Wait a minute, Bob," she said, and she went in to speak to the
landlord.

"There's an empty bedroom at the end of the store in the yard," she
said when she came back. "They can camp there for to-night if they
behave themselves. You'd better tell 'em, Bob."

"Thank yer, Alice," said the Giraffe.

Next day, after work, the Giraffe and I drifted together and down by
the river in the cool of the evening, and sat on the edge of the
steep, drought-parched bank.