Somers at once felt the idea was a good one. Australia is not too big—seven millions or so, and the biggest part of the seven concentrated in the five or six cities. Get hold of your cities and you’ve got hold of Australia. The only thing he mistrusted was the dryness in Jack’s voice: a sort of that’s-how-it’s-got-to-be dryness, sharp and authoritative.
“What d’yer think of it?” said Jack.
“Good idea,” said Somers.
“I know that—if we can bite on to it. Feel like joining in, d’yer think?”
Somers was silent. He was thinking of Jack even more than of the venture. Jack was trying to put something over him—in some way, to get a hold over him. He felt like a animal that is being lassoed. Yet here was his chance, if he wanted to be a leader of men. He had only to give himself, give himself up to it and to the men.
“Let me think about it a bit, will you?” he replied, “and I’ll tell you when I come up to Sydney.”
“Right O!” said Jack, a twinge of disappointment in his acquiescence. “Look before you leap, you know.”
“Yes—for both sides. You wouldn’t want me to jump in, and then squirm because I didn’t like it.”
“Right you are, old man. You take your own time—I know you won’t be wagging your jaw to anybody.”
“No. Not even to Harriet.”