The Branch Bank at Mooroobin

'The man at Mooroobin's shot himself, Chesney; and you have to take charge. For goodness' sake do the best you can for us, and see if you can't change the luck!'

In such words did I receive my promotion as manager of a branch of the Bank of New Carpentaria at a far-inland Australian township. Some people might have been proud of the chance. But I was not particularly so. Indeed, I would much rather have stayed at headquarters in Brisbane. Mooroobin had a shocking reputation amongst us. In the two years since the opening, four managers had come to grief there. One poisoned himself with strychnine; one died in delirium tremens; one wandered away into the bush, to be found dead and almost naked weeks afterwards. And now, to finish up in sympathy with them, Mostyn must go and blow his brains out! No wonder that I did not show much elation as the chief spoke, or that my fellow officials took as solemn a farewell of me as if it were for the last time.