found to be going over on one side. Waddy watched this failing with
growing uneasiness. When the collapse seemed inevitable, the male adults
were again bidden to an onerous public duty; they rolled up like
patriots, and with a mighty effort pushed the school up into the
perpendicular propping it there with stout stays. That answered
excellently for a time, but eventually the wretched house began to slant
in the opposite direction. Once more the men of Waddy attended in force,
and spent an arduous half-day hoisting it into an upright position, and
securing it there with more stays. It took the eccentric building a long
time to decide upon its next move; then it suddenly lurched forward a
foot or more, and after that slipped an inch or two farther out of plumb
every day. But the ingenuity of Waddy was not exhausted: a few hundred
feet of rope and a winch were borrowed from the Peep o' Day; the rope was
run round the schoolhouse, and the building was promptly hauled back into
shape and fastened down with long timbers running from its sides to a
convenient red-gum stump at the back. Thus it remained for many years,
bulging at the sides, pitching forward, and straining at its tethers like
an eager hound in a leash.

It was literally a humming hot day at Waddy; the pulsing whirr of
invisible locusts filled the whole air with a drowsy hum, and from the
flat at the back of the township, where a few thousand ewes and lambs
were shepherded amongst the quarry holes, came another insistent droning
in a deeper note, like the murmur of distant surf. No one was stirring:
to the right and left along the single thin wavering line of unpainted
weatherworn wooden houses nothing moved but mirage waters flickering in
the hollows of the ironstone road. Equally deserted was the wide stretch
of brown plain, dotted with poppet legs and here and there a whim, across
the dull expanse of which Waddy seemed to peer with stupid eyes.