In Time of Drought 85 



From a deep water-hole, a man is pumping water 

 into troughs, while another is opening bags of 

 chaff and spreading their contents about mangers 

 of hessian, stretched across upright saplings. 

 This is hand-feeding, and an expensive business, 

 for the chaff has to be brought many hundreds of 

 miles by boat and train, and last of all by team or 

 camel-train. Each sheep costs him sixpence a 

 week to feed, but as long as he is able to provide 

 or to borrow the money, it must go on. There 

 is nothing else to do. 



The sun climbs higher in the heavens, and the 

 feeble sheep creep listlessly into the shade of the 

 gum trees. Some of the men set about removing 

 the hides and wool of those that have recently 

 died. Everything seems at its last gasp, and the 

 choking wind sweeps across the sun-baked land, 

 smothering everything with dust and grit. The 

 very air is foul with the thousands of decaying 

 carcasses lying around. Weary and dispirited, 

 the owner of this desolation turns his jaded horse 

 back to the homestead, to receive what sympathy 

 and comfort his careworn wife is able to give him. 



The sufferings of the domestic animals in 

 drought time are shared by the wild birds and 

 animals of Australia, until these are forced to lay 

 aside their timidity by want of water and food. 

 At such times, it is interesting to camp by a 

 water-hole and observe the wild things as they 

 come to drink. With the very first streak of 

 dawn comes a mob of kangaroos, betraying their 



