of his dad being there; and he swears he never heard anything like Alf's style; though the stubborn devil would n't sing a word; nothing but play. And he was just as good on the piano as on the fiddle, though his hand must have been badly out. Mooney thinks he jibbed on singing because the women were there. Alf's a mis—mis—mis—dash it"
"Mischief-maker?" I suggested.
"No.—mis—mis"
"Mysterious character?"
"No, no.—mis—mis"
"Try a synonym."
"Is that it? I think it is. Well Alf's a misasynonym—woman-hater— among other things. When he comes to the station, he dodges the women like a criminal. And the unsociable dog begged of Montgomery not to ask him to perform again. One night, Nelson was going past his place, and heard a concert going on, so he left his horse, and sneaked up to the wall; but the music suddenly stopped, and before Nelson knew, Nosey's dog had the seat out of his pants. Nosey came out and apologised for the dog, and brought Nelson in to have some supper; and Nelson stayed till about twelve; but devil a squeak of the fiddle, or a line of a song, could he get out of Alf. But, as the boss says, Alf's only mad enough to know the difference between an eagle-hawk and a saw—foolish expression, it seems to me. Best boundary man on the station, Alf is. Been in the Round Swamp Paddock five years now; and he's likely a fixture for life. Boundary riding for some years in the Bland country before he came here. Now I'll show you how you'll fetch his place"—Moriarty began drawing a diagram on the ground with a stick—"You go through the Red Gate—we'll call this the gate. The track branches there; and you follow this branch. It's the Nalrooka track; and it takes you along here—mind, you're going due east now"
"Wait, Moriarty," I interrupted—"don't you see that you're reversing everything? A man would have to stand on his head to understand that map. There is the north, and here is the south."
"Don't matter a beggar which is the real north and south. I'm showing you the way you've got to go. We'll start afresh to please you. Through here—along here—and follow the same line from end to end of the pine-ridge, with the fence on your right all the way"
"Hold on, hold on," I again interrupted—"you're at right angles now. Don't you see that your line's north and south?—and did you ever see a pine-ridge running north and south? Begin again. Say the Red Gate is here; and I turn along here. Now go ahead."
"No, I'm dashed if I do! I'm no hand at directing; but, by gosh, you're all there at understanding."
"Jack," said I, turning to the primeval t'other-sider—"can you direct me to Nosey Alf's?"
"I'll try," replied the veteran; and he slowly drew a diagram, true to the points of the compass. "'Ere's the Red Gate—mind you shet it—then along 'ere, arf a mile. Through this gate—an' mind 'ow you leave 'er, f'r the wire hinclines to slip hover. Then straight along 'ere, through
