"God buless y'," he said when she told him he could have some dinner; "but I'll cut y' wood for it; oh, I'll cut y' wood!" And he went to the wood-heap and started work.

A big heap and a blunt axe; but it did n't matter to Casey.

He worked hard, and did n't stare about, and did n't reduce the heap much, either; and when Sal called him to dinner he could n't hear--he was too busy.

Joe had to go and bring him away.
Casey sat at the table and looked up at the holes in the roof, through which the sun was shining.
"Ought t' be a cool house," he remarked.
Mother said it was.
"Quite a bush house." "Oh, yes," Mother said--"we're right in the bush here." He began to eat and, as he ate, talked cheerfully of selections and crops and old times and bad times and wire fences and dead cattle.
Casey was a versatile ancient.

When he was finished he shifted to the sofa and asked Mother how many children she had.