Dan wanted a “sniff of it right off,” so it was then and there opened; but as the lid flew back the yell of delight changed to a howl of disappointment.  By some hideous mistake, Billy had brought raisins.

Like many philosophers, Dan could not apply his philosophy to himself.  “It’s the dead finish,” he said dejectedly; “never struck anything like it before.  Twice over too,” he added.  “First tinware and now this foolery “; and he kicked savagely at the offending tin, sending a shower of raisins dancing out into the dust.

Every one but Dan was speechless, while Billy, not being a slave to tea-drinking, gathered the raisins up, failing to see any cause for disappointment, particularly as most of the raisins fell to his share for his prompt return.

He also failed to see any advantage in setting out again for the Katherine.  “Might it catch raisins nuzzer time,” he said, logically enough.

Dan became despondent at the thought.  “They’re fools enough for anything,” he said.  I tried to cheer him up on the law of averages, as Goggle-Eye was sent off with instructions to travel “quick-fellow, quick-fellow, big mob quick-fellow,” and many promises of reward if he was back in “four fellow sleeps.”

For two more days we peered into the forest for travellers but none appeared, and Dan became retrospective.  “We might have guessed this ’ud happen,” he said, declaring it was a “judgment on the missus” for chucking good tea away just because a fly got into it.  “Luck’s cleared right out because of it, missus,” he said; “and if things go on like this Johnny’ll be coming along one of these days.” (Dan was the only one of us who could joke on the matter.)

“Luck’s smashed all to pieces,” he insisted later, when he found that the first pillow was finished; but at sundown was inclined to think it might be “on the turn again,” for Goggle-Eye appeared on the north track, stalking majestically in front of a horseman.

“Me bin catch traveller,” he said triumphantly, claiming his rewards, “Me bin come back two fellow sleep”; and before we could explain that was hardly what we had meant, the man had ridden up.

“Heard you were doing a famish here, sitting with your tongues hanging out,” he laughed, “so I’ve brought you a few more raisins.”  And dismounting, he drew out from a pack-bag a long calico bag containing quite ten pounds of tea.

“You struck the Wag’s tin,” he said, explaining the mistake, as every one shouted for Sam to boil a kettle instantly, and with the tea came a message from the Wag himself: 

“I’ll trouble you for my raisins “; and we could almost hear the Wag’s slow, dry chuckle underlying the words.

Mine Host also sent a message, saying he would “send further supplies every opportunity, to keep things going until the waggons came through,” and underlying his message we felt his kindly consideration.  As a further proof of his thoughtfulness we found two china cups imbedded in the tea.  He had heard of Sam’s accident.  Tea in china cups! and as much and as strong as we desired.  But in spite of Mine Host’s efforts to keep us going, twice again, before the waggons came, we found ourselves begging tea from travellers.