Nosey and his wife, Julia, were
inside, and he bade them good evening. Then he took a piece of
tobacco out of his pocket, and began cutting it with his knife. He
always carried his knife tied to his belt by a string which went
through a hole bored in the handle. It was a generally useful knife,
and with it he foot-rotted sheep, stirred the tea in his billy, and
cut beef and damper, sticks, and tobacco.
"I have been to Nyalong," he said, "and I heern something about my
sheep; they went to the township all right, strayed away, you know,
followed one another's tails, and never came back, the O. K. bullocks
go just the same way. Curious, isn't it?"
Nosey listened with keen interest. "Well, Baldy," he said, "and what
did you hear? Did you find out who took 'em?"
"Oh, yes," said Baldy; "I know pretty well all about 'em now, both
sheep and bullocks. Old Sharp was right about the sheep, anyway.
The thief is not far from the flock, and it's not me." Baldy was
brewing mischief for himself, but he did not know how much.
"Did you tell the police about 'em?" asked Nosey.
"Oh, no, not to-day!" answered Baldy. "Time enough yet. I ain't in
no hurry to be an informer."
Nosey eyed him with unusual savagery, and said:
"Now didn't I tell you to say no more about your blasted sheep, or
I'd see you for it? and here you are again, and you can't leave 'em
alone.
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