The Commerce of Friendship;

Melbourne awoke after 6 hrs of sleep. The sun was high, and he calculated he could barely make it to Mortimer's sheep sheering concern by 6:00 PM. Over coffee he raised the foreman on the ham radio. "Gid die, mate," came the otherwise normally accented voice across the ether. "Hey there First," Melbourne began. "How's tricks?" First came back without missing a beat. "Still paying them in 'ones,'" he replied. "What if I bring 'round a mess of Jumbo Shrimp later?" he asked. "Oh, Boss remembers your Shrimp. What's on your mind?" "It's sad, I got snagged by the preacher man. Her name's Andrea." "Word gets 'round," First replied noncommittally. "I hear she's a real sheila!" "Eh, well. Got any fleeces for market? I got a full tank of petrol in the Rover."

First seemed genuinely relieved. "Mel, I really got to tell you, I hired three new guys, and NONE of them can fleece a sheep, but they keep trying and trying, and between the three of them they STILL get a lot done. It's late today, but tomorrow I'll have a batch as high as your eye." "Right, then," Melbourne promised. "Make a list of what you need from market, and I'll be by 9:30 or 10:00." "I'll tell Boss to expect you. Cheerio" They signed off amicably, and Melbourne stretched. It seemed strange to go about his daily business without a journal to keep, but his survival sense of urgency was surprisingly strong. He soon lost himself in his labors, and the next morning found him on his way with a bucket of his favorite diversion in tow, while Andrea pondered a list of chores. She was willing and able, but knowledge was not the same as experience.

Melbourne rolled up just as First tossed another fleece up on the pile. "Did you hear Bob won the Lotto?" First asked. Melbourne was surprised. "No... what's he gonna do now?" "Oh he was real happy," First said with a twinkle. "He's gonna keep farming till at least half of it's gone!" Melbourne laughed delightedly. Bob had always been a friend. They proceeded to ready the Rover load with the efficiency of men who had to do it again if it wasn't done right the first time, and the pile fell as the Rover settled.

Melbourne's memory stirred. "How long's it been since YOU won a bet, mate?" First flashed a ready smile. "Not long as you I _bet_," he said with more than normal deliberation. "See that row of Crows on that fence over there?" "Oh yeh," First took them in. "I BET that the one farthest on the right is the last to fly away," Melbourne ventured evenly. First was quite amenable. "What's in the pot?" he inquired. Melbourne smiled inwardly. "Three Fosters," he promised. First could see no possible way that Melbourne could have a house advantage. "You're ON!" he cried. Melbourne lost in less than 90 seconds. He didn't blink. "Double or nothing," he re-upped.

First was quite amused. He knew Melbourne, but this seemed to be a sure thing. "Hey GUYS," he yelled, "Mel's got a new strategy for PARTIES. He's gonna buy us all beers." 30 seconds later a crowd of laughing jesting sheep -shearers was gathered. Melbourne had been readying the barbecue, and a generous portion of shrimp was in the offing for all. He quickly outlined the stakes, and he used his hat to hold the chits of IOUs. His own stack was not insignificant, but he was confident. They had chosen a referee for the bank, and he held up the stop-watch. "Farthest on the RIGHT is LAST to fly away," he announced in a booming bass voice, and started the timer.

No sooner had he spoken that Melbourne's .22 echoed response. The Crow farthest on the right fell. Three of the workmen turned green, and started to yell, but First's laughter led the rest. The more they laughed, the more they saw the joke. Melbourne could afford to laugh with them; he was still holding a rifle. As the laughter died down, he divvied up the Shrimp. All jokes aside, the shrimp were well proportioned. Since each worker had lost little, they collectively felt no pain, and Melbourne stuffed the IOU's in his pocket uncounted for later; it had been fun.

"Well, First, I guess I'm the one that's won most recent _now_," he grinned. "I'm off to town to make the exchanges and ship the goods." "I'll be drunk from now 'til Christmas on that one Mel," First chortled. "Just don't warn them I'm coming!" "Bob's your Uncle," agreed Melbourne. The rest of the day was a breeze.