Yanda Station was situated¹ in a wild country, and when Edgar Foster arrived there he thought he had never seen such a dreary² spot. Accustomed to the green fields of old England and her charming rural landscapes, Edgar found the barren plains and scraggy trees monotonous³. Instead of miles upon miles of green, undulating pasture-land, he saw brown, hard-baked ground, the stunted⁴ grass growing in patches, and looking parched⁵ and dry for want of water.  
Although the first glimpse of Yanda disenchanted Edgar of the ideas he had formed of ‘up-country’ scenes, the reception he met with from the station hands reconciled him to the prospect⁶ before him. Captain Fife had written to Benjamin Brody, the manager at Yanda, informing him who Edgar Foster was, and how he had behaved at the wreck⁷ of the Distant Shore. He also stated that Edgar was the son of the famous cricketer, Robert Foster. This was quite sufficient to ensure Edgar a hearty⁸ reception, and his arrival was quite an event on the station.
 
Ben Brody was a born colonial, a man accustomed to take the rough with the smooth of life and weld them into an even existence. Brody’s temper was none of the best, but he kept it under control. He was a sober man in the accepted sense of the word; that is, he never took more liquor than he could conveniently carry. There was no better rider at Yanda than Ben Brody, and the toughest buck⁹-jumper generally found he had met his match when Brody got on to his back.
 
Fearless and determined¹⁰, he was the very man to manage the somewhat mixed lot of hands on Yanda Station. They had some ‘queer customers’—Brody’s expression—on Yanda. It was a wild country, and far out of the beaten track. The wonder to most people who took the trouble to think about such an outlandish place as Yanda was how it was kept going, for they would never have been so rash as to argue that Yanda paid its way.
 
But Yanda, thanks to good management, did pay its way, and Captain Fife and others were perfectly¹¹ satisfied with their investment. Yanda was bought cheap at a time when station property in the far West was going begging, and the installation of Ben Brody as manager had resulted in its turning out a good bargain. Brody was a great believer in sheep, but he had not much faith in cattle on Yanda. The hands firmly believed that Ben Brody had been reared from a very early age upon lean mutton, and that the taste for any other kind of meat was foreign to him.
 
Ben Brody had a horror of fat sheep. He preferred sheep “all wool,” because wool was worth considerably¹² more than flesh. The slaughtering¹⁴ of a bullock at Yanda was the signal for much joy on the part of the hands. When Ben Brody received the news that Edgar Foster would arrive on a certain day at Yanda, he resolved to duly celebrate the event, just to give the ‘new chum’ a better idea of the country.
 
‘What’s come over Brody?’ asked Will Henton. ‘He’s actually ordered the slaughtering of a bullock. I am overwhelmed with joy.’
 
Will Henton was a young fellow who discovered town life too fast for him, so had found his way to Yanda, and turned out a useful man.
 
‘There’s a new hand coming,’ said Harry¹⁵ Noke. ‘Brody’s told me about him. He’s the young fellow who rescued that little lass at the wreck of the Distant Shore, and he’s a son of Robert Foster the cricketer.’
 
‘No!’ said Will Henton. ‘You can’t mean it. What a slice of luck! He’s sure to play cricket well, and we’re short of a man or two.’
 
‘You know the reason of the slaughter¹³ now,’ said Harry. ‘I must confess beef will be a change from Brody’s everlasting¹⁶ mutton.’
 
‘We must give young Foster a good reception,’ said Will.
 
‘He deserves it,’ said Harry, ‘and he’ll be able to spin us some yarns¹⁷ about the wreck.’
 
‘Plucky young beggar,’ said Will. ‘I’m open to bet you a trifle he can box.’
 
‘You’re mad on boxing,’ said Harry. ‘It would be a blessing¹⁸ if some disguised fighting-man came here to knock the conceit¹⁹ out of you.’
 
The hands at Yanda talked the matter of Edgar’s arrival over, and agreed to make things pleasant for him; occasionally they made matters rather rough for a new hand, until he paid a substantial footing.
 
So it came about that there was much feasting and rejoicing when Edgar arrived, and he thought them a set of jolly good fellows.
 
‘The hospitality makes up for the barrenness of the land,’ thought Edgar.
 
There were a good many blackfellows about Yanda, and they were as keen on the scent²⁰ of fresh-killed meat as a hound after a fox. Towards night, when the feasting was over, and Ben Brody, Edgar, and several of the hands were sitting on the wide[96] veranda²¹ running round the homestead, dusky forms were seen advancing across the open plain.
 
‘Have you black men about here?’ asked Edgar in some surprise.
 
‘Thousands of ’em,’ said Brody, without moving a muscle of his face.
 
Edgar looked at him, smiling, and said:
 
‘They must be pretty tame if there are thousands of them. I suppose when you first arrived here you brought an army to conquer the country.’
 
‘We’ll say hundreds,’ said Brody; ‘I must have been thinking of sheep.’
 
‘Mutton again!’ whispered Will to Harry Noke. ‘He lives on mutton, consequently he thinks of sheep.’
 
‘How many hundred blacks have you on Yanda?’ said Edgar, who had been somewhat prepared for Ben Brody’s exaggerations by Wal Jessop.
 
‘Well, really, I couldn’t say for certain,’ replied Brody; ‘I’ve not had ’em mustered²² lately. When we’ve a bit of spare time I’ll have ’em counted for you.’
 
‘Thanks,’ said Edgar; ‘it is always interesting to ascertain²³ what likelihood there is of the original inhabitants of a country becoming extinct.’
 
A roar of laughter gr............