red steadily across it.

Near the stockyard a cloud of dust hovered, through which might be seen
dimly the forms of Jim, Wally and O'Toole--all engaged in the engrossing
pursuit of inducing three poddy calves to enter the yard. They had but
one dog, which, being young and "whip shy," had vanished into the
distant landscape at the sound of Murty's stockwhip, leaving them but
their own energies to persuade the calves; and when a poddy calf
becomes obstinate there are few animals less easy to persuade. Each was
possessed of a very respectable turn of speed and a rooted
determination to remain in the paddock. When, as frequently happened,
they made separate rushes away in the direction of freedom it was all
but impossible for those on foot to head them off and keep them in the
corner by the yards. They raced hither and thither like mad things,
cutting wild capers as they fled; backed and twisted and dodged, and
occasionally bellowed as they bolted, much as a naughty child might
bellow. To an onlooker there was something distinctly funny in the
spectacle.

Murty and the boys, however, might be excused for failing to see the
finer points of the joke. They were hot beyond expression; they were
also extremely dirty, and were verging on becoming extremely cross. To
and fro they darted wildly, striving to head off the cheerful culprits:
lifted up their voices in fruitless shouting, and wasted much necessary
breath in uttering wild threats of what might be expected to happen
when--if ever--they succeeded in yarding the enemy. Not one had a hat;
they had long ago been used as missiles in checking a rush, and now lay
in the dust, trampled under the racing feet of the poddies. Moreover,
it was distressingly evident that they were becoming tired, whilst the
calves remained fresh and in most excellent spirits. The chances, as
Norah arrived, were distinctly in favour of the calves.

From a comfortable seat on a rail Cecil watch the battle, for once
ceasing to look bored. In his opinion it was funnier than a circus.
Once or twice he shouted words of encouragement to the combatants, and
frequently he laughed outright. As an entertainment this quite outshone
anything that had been offered him on Billabong--and Cecil was not the
man to withhold applause where he thought it due. Finally his attitude
attracted the notice of the perspiring Mr. O'Toole.

"Yerra, come down out o' that an' len' a hand!" he shouted, panting.
"It is laughin' ye