"Would yer mind takin' a stroll as fur as the Billerbong?" he said.
"I got something I'd like to tell yer."

His big, brown, sunburnt hands trembled and shook as he took a letter
from his pocket and opened it.

"I've just got a letter," he said. "A letter from that little girl
at Bendigo. It seems it was all a mistake. I'd like you to read it.
Somehow I feel as if I want to talk to a feller, and I'd rather talk
to you than any of them other chaps."

It was a good letter, from a big-hearted little girl. She had been
breaking her heart for the great ass all these months. It seemed that
he had left Bendigo without saying good-bye to her. "Somehow I
couldn't bring meself to it," he said, when I taxed him with it. She
had never been able to get his address until last week; then she got
it from a Bourke man who had gone south. She called him "an awful
long fool," which he was, without the slightest doubt, and she
implored him to write, and come back to her.

"And will you go back, Bob?" I asked.

"My oath! I'd take the train to-morrer only I ain't got the stuff.
But I've got a stand in Big Billerbong Shed an' I'll soon knock a few
quid together. I'll go back as soon as ever shearin's over. I'm
goin' to write away to her to-night."


The Giraffe was the "ringer" of Big Billabong Shed that season. His