tallies averaged a hundred and twenty a day. He only sent his hat
round once during shearing, and it was noticed that he hesitated at
first and only contributed half a crown. But then it was a case of a
man being taken from the shed by the police for wife desertion.

"It's always that way," commented Mitchell. "Those soft,
good-hearted fellows always end by getting hard and selfish. The
world makes 'em so. It's the thought of the soft fools they've been
that finds out sooner or later and makes 'em repent. Like as not the
Giraffe will be the meanest man out back before he's done."

When Big Billabong cut out, and we got back to Bourke with our dusty
swags and dirty cheques, I spoke to Tom Hall:

"Look here, Tom," I said. "That long fool, the Giraffe, has been
breaking his heart for a little girl in Bendigo ever since he's been
out back, and she's been breaking her heart for him, and the ass
didn't know it till he got a letter from her just before Big Billabong
started. He's going to-morrow morning."

That evening Tom stole the Giraffe's hat. "I s'pose it'll turn up in
the mornin'," said the Giraffe. "I don't mind a lark," he added,
"but it does seem a bit red hot for the chaps to collar a cove's hat
and a feller goin' away for good, p'r'aps, in the mornin'."

Mitchell started the thing going with a quid.

"It's worth it," he said, "to get rid of him. We'll have some
peace now. There won't be so many accidents or women in trouble when
the Giraffe and his blessed hat are gone. Any way, he's an eyesore in