the barley. Somehow, Dad did n't believe in sowing any more crops, he
seemed to lose heart; but Mother talked it over with him, and when
reminded that he would soon be entitled to the deeds he brightened up
again and worked. How he worked!

We had no plough, so old Anderson turned over the six acres for us, and
Dad gave him a pound an acre--at least he was to send him the first six
pounds got up country. Dad sowed the seed; then he, Dan and Dave yoked
themselves to a large dry bramble each and harrowed it in. From the way
they sweated it must have been hard work. Sometimes they would sit down
in the middle of the paddock and "spell" but Dad would say something about
getting the deeds and they'd start again.

A cockatoo-fence was round the barley; and wire-posts, a long distance
apart, round the grass-paddock. We were to get the wire to put in when
Dad sent the money; and apply for the deeds when he came back. Things
would be different then, according to Dad, and the farm would be worked
properly. We would break up fifty acres, build a barn, buy a reaper,
ploughs, cornsheller, get cows and good horses, and start two or three
ploughs. Meanwhile, if we (Dan, Dave and I) minded the barley he was sure
there'd be something got out of it.

Dad had been away about six weeks. Travellers were passing by every day,
and there was n't one that did n't want a little of something or other.
Mother used to ask them if they had met Dad? None ever did until an old
grey man came along and said he knew Dad well--he had camped with him one
night and shared a damper. Mother was very pleased and brought him in.
We had a kangaroo-rat (stewed) for dinner that day. The girls did n't
want to lay it on the table at first, but Mother said he would n't know
what it was. The traveller was very hungry and liked it, and when passing