"Good Enough!" Dan Cried At The First Sight Of Them, And The Dandy
Explained That The Boys Had Caught "Shoals Of 'em" At His Dinner-Camp At
The Fish Hole, Assuring Us That The Water There Was "Stiff With 'em."
But The Dandy Had Been Busy Elsewhere.
"Good enough!" Dan had said at
the sight of the fish, and pointing to a billy full of clear, sweet water
that was just thinking of boiling, the Maluka echoed the sentiment if not
the words.
"Dug a soakage along the creek a bit and got it," the Dandy explained;
and as we blessed him for his thoughtfulness, he lifted up a clean cloth
and displayed a pile of crisp Johnny cakes. "Real slap up ones," he
assured us, breaking open one of the crisp, spongy rolls. It was always
a treat to be in camp with the Dandy: everything about the man was so
crisp and clean and wholesome.
As we settled down to supper, the Fizzer came shouting through the
ant-hills, and, soon after, the Quiet Stockman rode into camp. Our
Fizzer was always the Fizzer. "Managed to escape without help?" he
shouted in welcome as he came to the camp fire, alluding to his promise
"to do a rescue"; and then he surveyed our supper. "Struck it lucky, as
usual," he declared, helping himself to a couple of fish from the fire
and breaking open one of the crisp Johnny cakes. "Can't beat grilled fish
and hot rolls by much, to say nothin' of tea." The Fizzer was one of
those happy, natural people who always find the supply exactly suited to
the demand.
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