erce, and showers
of sparks fall like streams of gold. Sometimes a dull crack gives
warning of the fall of a long-dead giant; and the burning mass leans
slowly over, and then comes down with a crash, while the curious
bullocks, which have poked as near as they dare to the strange scene,
fling round and lumber off in a heavy gallop, heads down and tails up.
From stump to stump flit the little black figures of the workers,
standing out clearly sometimes, by the light of a blaze so fierce that
to face it is scarcely possible; or half seen in the dull glow of a
smouldering tree poking vigorously--seeming as ants attacking living
monsters infinitely beyond their strength. Perhaps it is there that the
fascination of the work comes in--the triumph of conquering tons of
inanimate matter by efforts so small. At any rate it is always hard to
leave the scene of action, and certainly the first glance next morning
is to see "which are down."

Then there were days spent among the cattle--days that always meant the
high-water mark of bliss to Norah. She road astride, and her special
pony, Bobs, to whom years but added perfection, loved the work as much
as she did. They understood each other perfectly; if Norah carried a
hunting-crop, it was merely for assistance in opening gates, for Bobs
never felt its touch. A hint from her heel, or a quick word, conveyed
all the big bay pony ever needed to supplement his own common sense, of
which Mr. Linton used to say he possessed more than most men. The new
bullocks arrived, and had to be drafted and branded--during which latter
operation Norah retired dismally to the house and the socks that had to
be finished in time to be Jim's Christmas present. Then, after the
branding, came a most cheerful time, putting the cattle into their
various paddocks.

One day was spent in mustering sheep, an employment not at all to
Norah's taste. She was frankly glad that Billabong devoted most of its
energies to cattle, and only put up with the sheep work because, since
Daddy was there, it never occurred to her to do anything else but go.
But she hated the slow, dusty ride, and hailed with delight a gallop
that came in their way towards the end of the day, when a hare jumped
up under Bob's nose as they rode homewards from the yards. The dogs
promptly gave chase; and, almost without knowing it, Norah and Bobs
were in hot pursuit, with Monarch shaking the earth behind them. The
average sheep dog is no match for