His voice was husky from much swearing at profligate cattle, and there was a curious nasal twang in his tone, a sort of affectation of Americanism that was a departure from the ordinary bush drawl.
Charlie introduced himself.

"My name's Gordon," he said, "and this is a friend of mine.

We've come to take this block over." "You're welcome to it, Mister," said the old man promptly.

"It's about broke me, and if you don't look out it'll break you.

Any man that gits this place will hump his swag from it in five years, mark me! Come on down to the house," he continued, picking up the rope and other gear lying about the fence.