to persecute men for having no occupation but carting, yet that's what
nine-tenths of the squatters do, and this Montgomery is one of the nine.
You're a bit sarcastic. How long is it since you were one
of the cheekiest grass-stealers on the track?"

"Never, Steve. You've been drinking."

"Anyway, you need n't be more of a hypocrite than you can help,"
grumbled Thompson. "If you want a problem to work out, just consider
that God constructed cattle for living on grass, and the grass
for them to live on, and that, last night, and to-night, and to-morrow night,
and mostly every night, we've a choice between two dirty transactions--
one is, to let the bullocks starve, and the other is to steal grass for them.
For my own part, I'm sick and tired of studying why some people
should be in a position where they have to go out of their way to do wrong,
and other people are cornered to that extent that they can't live
without doing wrong, and can't suicide without jumping out of the frying-pan
into the fire. Wonder if any allowance is made for bullock drivers?--
or are they supposed to be able to make enough money to retire
into some decent life before they die? Well, thank God for one good camp,
at all events."

"How's the water?" asked Cooper, meeting us at the fence.

"Enough for to-night," replied Thompson; "but very little left for posterity."

"After us, the Deluge," observed Willoughby.

"I hope so," replied Cooper devoutly. "Lord knows, it's badly wanted;
and I'm sure we don't grudge nobody the benefit. Turnin' out nice an' cool,