"Perhaps I could go out with the next lot of stuff," said Hugh.
"When will they want it, do you think?"
"Well, they mightn't want any more. They might go on now till the
wet season, and then they'll come in."
"When is the wet season, then?"
"Oh, a couple of months, likely. Perhaps three months. Perhaps
there won't be none at all to speak of. What'll you have?"
"Oh, I have just had a drink, thanks. Fact is, I'm a bit anxious
to get out to this camp. It's a bit important. You don't know where
they are for certain?"
"Lord knows! Anywhere! Might be on one river, might be on another.
They'll come in in the wet season. Better have a drink, anyhow.
You must have something. What'll it be--square? Beer? Can't stand
beer in this climate, myself."
"Oh, well," said Hugh desperately, "I'll have another square. Make
it a light one. Do you think I can get anyone who knows where they
are camped to go out with me?"
"Tommy Prince'd know, I expect. He was out in that country before.
But he's gone with a bullock-team, drawing quartz to the new
battery at the Oriental. At least I saw him start out three weeks
ago. Said he was in a hurry, too, as the battery couldn't start
until he got the quartz hauled."
"Perhaps he didn't start," said Hugh; "perhaps he put it off till
after the wet season?"
"Well," said the storekeeper, meditatively, "he might, but I don't
think he would. There's no one else, that I know of, can find them
for you. Lord knows where they are. They camp in one place till
the buffalo are all shot, and then they shift to new ground. Perhaps
ten miles, perhaps thirty. Have another drink? What'll you have?"
"No, not any more, thanks. About this Tommy Prince, now; if I can
find him he might tell me where to go. Where can I find him?"
"Down at the Margaret is where he camps, but I think he's gone to
the Oriental by this time--sure to be. That's about forty miles
down past the Margaret. There was a fellow came in from the Margaret
for supplies, and he'll be going back to-morrow--if he can find
his pack-horses."
"And supposing he can't?"
"Well, then, he'll go out next week, I expect, unless he gets on
the drink. He's a terrible chap to drink."
"And if he starts to drink, when will he go?"
"Lord knows. They'll have to send in after him. His mates'll
be pretty near starved by now, anyhow. He's been in town, foolin'
round that girl at the Royal this three weeks. He'll give you a
lift out to the Margaret--that's forty miles."
"What is there out at the Margaret when I get there? Is it a town,
or a station, or a mine? What is it?"