id not take any
particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men
friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous
lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for
the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come
to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SWEET SEVENTEEN

Monday arrived--last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my
birth--and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed.

It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella--a cattle-station
seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat--and all our men were there
assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among
those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on
Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in
readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us
manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist,
was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work
again.

Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that
twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was
precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their
drovers' pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a
great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of
such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct
myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was
clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was
seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and
carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I
cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I
came upon the sheep just setting out for their day's tramp, with a black
boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed
towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way
through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of
them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr
Bossier's niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the
sheep through.

"That's all right, miss. I will look out that you don't have much
trouble," he replied, politely