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From: | Eveline Walsh |
Subject: | [Mine-dev] beauty |
Date: | Sun, 20 Aug 2006 13:59:54 +0200 |
He was clean-shaven now, more terrier-like
thanever. There, thats what Imean you to understand, Mr Kebbel, sir. Just picked
that there up down the river. Oh, out of those gullies where you lost
yourself.
Itll driveme off the hooks if I dont get a bit of
peace soon. Thats nothin, Sambo did not fail to remember.
Drought would never come over the ranges then. Tom
made a face as though stabbed by sudden pain, jumped up,stamped with both
feet.
Bill grumbled a lot, but Cabell saved his lambs.
The watchman rides in to rouse up hismate, smokes a pipe, and shakes
down.
The homestead would be built here
eventually.
In the scrub the animals rustled with alarmat it
and cried out.
He had the samefatalistic eye, bleating voice and
creaky joints. Bill Penberthy came with his blankets to keep watch. Bill grumbled a
lot, but Cabell saved his lambs. He walkedhalf a mile across the flats to where the
drafting yards were beingbuilt.
Once or twice they met a man with a drayload of
wool, creepingthrough the ranges towards the sea. An old gin followed them to their
horses with thin, grey palmoutstretched. Bill Penberthy came with his blankets to
keep watch.
At the fireside Tom was stroking his whiskers in
deep thoughtagain.
Nearlyfifty were drowned, speared or lost.
Saylittle, keep watch, suspect their easy words of friendship.
And down that place I was onnear Bathurst it was
the same.
Theirs was the sternest of
precisejustice.
Cabell got his blanket from the cart and lay down
feet to the fire,his head pillowed on his saddle. Just because you want to lord
itover a pack of sots in England.
Let them increase, then, and I wont be here
long.
He continued to consider, with wrinkled brows, a
bizarreproblem located among the broken clouds.
Flanagan stood looking at Cabells horse for some
time, then ranhis hand down a foreleg.
Save the water, thats what youve got to do, Gursey
said. Saylittle, keep watch, suspect their easy words of friendship. The noisehere
fair lifts the top off your nut. A generation was small enough, and hehad set ten
years. He was always looking round at the bush, back the way theyhad come, as though
expecting someone.
Whose fault is it the place is lonely and stinking,
with nothingin it but sheep to think of?
He took his blankets down to the pensand slept
among the sheep. This enormous darkness was theirs, and his all that wascontained
within the circle of the fires.
Them ewes over Kebbelss gettin tight,boys, thats
what hes sayin this minute.
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