little malice in his composition, but when old Mac, the teamster,
turned his teams over to his sons and started a light van for parcels
and passengers from Cunnamulla--that place which always sounds to me
suggestive of pumpkin pies--out in seeming opposition to Harry
Chatswood, Harry was annoyed.

Perhaps Mac only wished to end his days on the road with parcels that
were light and easy to handle (not like loads of fencing wire) and
passengers that were sociable; but he had been doing well with his
teams, and, besides, Harry thought he was after the mail contract: so
Harry was annoyed more than he was injured. Mac was mean with the
money he had not because of the money he had a chance of getting; and
he mostly slept in his van, in all weathers, when away from home
which was kept by his wife about half-way between the half-way house
and the next "township."

One dark, gusty evening, Harry Chatswood's coach dragged, heavily
though passengerless, into Cunnamulla, and, as he turned into the yard
of the local "Royal," he saw Mac's tilted four-wheeler (which he
called his "van") drawn up opposite by the kerbing round the post
office. Mac always chose a central position--with a vague idea of
advertisement perhaps. But the nearness to the P.O. reminded Harry of
the mail contracts, and he knew that Mac had taken up a passenger or
two and some parcels in front of him (Harry) on the trip in. And
something told Harry that Mac was asleep inside his van. It was a
windy night, with signs of rain, and the curtains were drawn close.

Old Mac was there all right, and sleeping the sleep of a tired driver
after a long drowsy day on a hard box-seat, with little or no back
railing to it. But there was a lecture on, or an exhibition of