A CASE FOR THE ORACLE
The Oracle and I were camped together. The Oracle was a bricklayer by trade, and had two or three small contracts on hand. I was “doing a bit of house-painting”. There were a plasterer, a carpenter, and a plumber—we were all T’othersiders, and old mates, and we worked things together. It was in Westralia—the Land of T’othersiders—and, therefore, we were not surprised when Mitchell turned up early one morning, with his swag and an atmosphere of salt water about him.
He’d had a rough trip, he said, and would take a spell that day and take the lay of the land and have something cooked for us by the time we came home; and go to graft himself next morning. And next morning he went to work, “labouring” for the Oracle.
The Oracle and his mates, being small contractors and not pressed for time, had dispensed with the services of a labourer, and had done their own mixing and hod-carrying in turns. They didn’t want a labourer now, but the Oracle was a vague fatalist, and Mitchell a decided one. So it passed.
The Oracle had a “Case” right under his nose—in his own employ, in fact; but was not aware of the fact
