She cried, and wondered what she'd done, and trembled so
that she could scarcely unharness the horse, and wondered if Andy
had got a touch of the sun, and went in and sat down and cried again;
and pride came to her aid and she hated Andy; thought of her big brother,
away droving, and made a cup of tea. She shed tears over the tea,
and went through it all again.

Meanwhile Andy was suffering a reaction. He started to fill the hole
before he put the post in; then to ram the post before the rails
were in position. Dubbing off the ends of the rails,
he was in danger of amputating a toe or a foot with every stroke of the adze.
And, at last, trying to squint along the little lumps of clay
which he had placed in the centre of the top of each post
for several panels back -- to assist him to take a line --
he found that they swam and doubled, and ran off in watery angles,
for his eyes were too moist to see straight and single.

Then he threw down the tools hopelessly, and was standing helplessly undecided
whether to go home or go down to the creek and drown himself,
when Dave turned up again.

"Seen her?" asked Dave.

"Yes," said Andy.

"Did you chuck her?"

"Look here, Dave; are you sure the feller was Mick Kelly?"