THE SICK STOCKRIDER 



Hold hard, Ned ! Lift me down once more, 

 and lay me in the shade. 

 Old man, you've had your work cut out to 

 guide 

 Both horses, and to hold me in the saddle 

 when I sway'd 

 All through the hot, slow, sleepy, silent 

 ride. 



The dawn at ** Moorabinda " was a mist- 

 wrack dull and dense, 

 The sunrise was a sullen, sluggish lamp ; 

 I was dozing in the gateway at Arbuthnot's 

 boundary fence, 

 I was dreaming on the Limestone cattle 

 camp. 



We crossed the creek at Carricksford, and 

 sharply through the haze, 

 And suddenly the sun shot flaming 

 forth ; 

 To southward lay " Katiwa," with the sand- 

 peaks all ablaze, 

 And the flush 'd fields of Glen Lomond lay 



to north. 



172 



