that mother used to go and dip the bucket into it herself, when she
wanted one, from a little wooden step above the clear reedy waterhole.

Now and then we used to dig in the garden. There was reaping and corn-pulling
and husking for part of the year; but often, for weeks at a time,
there was next to nothing to do. No hunting worth much --
we were sick of kangarooing, like the dogs themselves, that as they grew old
would run a little way and then pull up if a mob came, jump, jump, past them.
No shooting, except a few ducks and pigeons. Father used to laugh
at the shooting in this country, and say they'd never have poachers here --
the game wasn't worth it. No fishing, except an odd codfish,
in the deepest waterholes; and you might sit half a day without a bite.

Now this was very bad for us boys. Lads want plenty of work,
and a little play now and then to keep them straight. If there's none,
they'll make it; and you can't tell how far they'll go when they once start.

Well, Jim and I used to get our horses and ride off quietly in the afternoon,
as if we were going after cattle; but, in reality, as soon as we were
out of sight of mother, to ride over to that old villain,
Grimes, the shanty-keeper, where we met the young Dalys,
and others of the same sort -- talked a good deal of nonsense and gossip;
what was worse played at all-fours and euchre, which we had learned
from an American harvest hand, at one of the large farms.

Besides playing for money, which put us rather into trouble sometimes,
as we couldn't always find a half-crown if we lost it,
we learned another bad habit, and that was to drink spirits.
What burning nasty stuff I thought it at first; and so did we all!
But every one wanted to be thought a man, and up to all kinds of wickedness,