business point of view. It is simply there to collect funds for
hungry headquarters. The bushmen are much too intelligent for the
Army. There was no poverty in Bourke--as it is understood in the
city; there was plenty of food; and camping out and roughing it come
natural to the bushmen. In cases of sickness, accident, widows or
orphans, the chaps sent round the hat, without banging a drum or
testifying, and that was all right. If a chap was hard up he borrowed
a couple of quid from his mate. If a strange family arrived without a
penny, someone had to fix 'em up, and the storekeepers helped them
till the man got work. For the rest, we work out our own salvation,
or damnation--as the case is--in the bush, with no one to help us,
except a mate, perhaps. The Army can't help us, but a fellow-sinner
can, sometimes, who has been through it all himself. The Army is only
a drag on the progress of Democracy, because it attracts many who
would otherwise be aggressive Democrats--and for other reasons.

Besides, if we all reformed the Army would get deuced little from us
for its city mission.

The Pretty Girl went to service for a while with the stock inspector's
wife, who could get nothing out of her concerning herself or her
friends. She still slept at the barracks, stuck to the Army, and
attended its meetings.


It was Christmas morning, and there was peace in Bourke and goodwill
towards all men. There hadn't been a fight since yesterday evening,
and that had only been a friendly one, to settle an argument
concerning the past ownership, and, at the same time, to decide as to
the future possession of a dog.