In Time of Drought 89 



stream-bed choked with dust, and a wooden 

 bridge spanning it, bore witness that under 

 normal conditions the settlement could boast of a 

 river. The breaking of the drought was heralded 

 by news of heavy rains nearer the coast, and by 

 the rumour that a head of water was actually 

 rushing down the upper reaches of the river. 

 This rumour was confirmed by an excited horse- 

 man, who rode into the town one breathless 

 evening, yelling that "she was coming down." 

 Everybody turned out to witness the sight, lining 

 the banks of the dry stream-bed and gazing up 

 the empty channel with anxious eyes. The com- 

 ing of the water could be heard before it was 

 actually in sight, a hoarse whispering as the ad- 

 vancing flood licked around the sun-baked stones, 

 and stirred among the dead twigs and grasses. 

 Then an inky pool appeared in the stream-bed, 

 now stationary and now moving quickly forward. 

 It broadened as it trickled through the little 

 town. Behind it came a rush of yellow waters, 

 laden with debris of all kinds, filling up the hol- 

 lows and washing away the year's accumulation 

 of dust or grit. Two hours later, the dry creek- 

 bed was a roaring torrent, and the excited man 

 borrowed a fresh horse to convey the glad news 

 to townships further down the creek. 



Most of that water ran uselessly away from the 

 places where it was wanted, just as it had for ages 

 past in parched, unthrifty Australia. It would be 

 strange indeed if the waste of it did not appeal to 



