'Oh, tell her a tale of the fairies bright -- That only the Bushmen know -- Who guide the feet of the lost aright, Or carry them up through the starry night, Where the Bush-lost babies go.'
He was one of those men who seldom smile. There are many in the Australian Bush, where drift wrecks and failures of all stations and professions (and of none), and from all the world. Or, if they do smile, the smile is either mechanical or bitter as a rule -- cynical. They seldom talk. The sort of men who, as bosses, are set down by the majority -- and without reason or evidence -- as being proud, hard, and selfish, -- 'too mean to live, and too big for their boots.'
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