The Never-Never Land 59 



vance of the mob, the cook drives his cart, ever 

 on the look-out, as nightfall approaches, for a 

 suitable place for the camp. Behind the cart, a 

 few spare horses are led in halters, for the use of 

 the eight or ten mounted drovers in charge of the 

 herd of cattle that follows. See them coming, a 

 thousand great lumbering bullocks, packed in one 

 dense mob, with the men, tanned and picturesque, 

 sitting so easily on the clever stock-horses. Every 

 man has his eyes upon the herd, for they have not 

 been long upon the route, and are awkward to 

 drive because they have not yet found their travel- 

 ling legs. The stock-whips sound from time to 

 time with a report like the discharge of a rifle, as 

 some discontented animal makes an attempt to 

 break away from his fellows. In another month 

 or so, if all goes well, the bullocks will have be- 

 come used to travelling, and the necessity for con- 

 stant vigilance will have ceased to exist. 



When the evening comes, the drovers find their 

 camp pitched and a meal ready for them, but their 

 day's work is by no means over. The cattle are 

 rounded up, and after a feed may settle down 

 quietly, many of them lying down and chewing 

 the cud. Then some of the drovers "turn in," but 

 the mob must be watched all night. Those dark 

 Australian nights are still and silent. In the 

 clear sky above, now a dark violet blue, myriads 

 of stars blaze whitely, affording the watchers just 

 enough light to see the dark forms of the rumi- 

 nating beasts. Suddenly one of the drovers 



