the anathemas as the discontented men gazed sadly or wrathfully at the
misty sky.

A few days showery weather having, therefore, wellnigh driven
our shearers to desperation, out comes the sun in all his glory. He is
never far away or very faint in Riverina. All the pens are filled for
the morrow; very soon after the earliest sunbeams the bell sounds its
welcome summons, and the whole force tackles to the work with an ardour
proportioned to the delay, every man working as if for the ransom of
his whole family from slavery. How men work spurred on by the double
excitement of acquiring social reputation and making money rapidly! Not
an instant is lost; not a nerve, limb, or muscle doing less than the
hardest task-master could flog out of a slave. Occasionally you see a
shearer, after finishing his sheep, walk quickly out and not appear for
a couple of hours, or perhaps not again during the day. Do not put him
down as a sluggard; be assured that he has tasked nature dangerously
hard, and has only given in just before she does. Look at that silent
slight youngster, with a bandage round his swollen wrist. Every "blow"
of the shears is agony to him, yet he disdains to give in, and has been
working "in distress" for hours. The pain is great, as you can see by
the flush which occasionally surges across his brown face, yet he goes
on manfully to the last sheep, and endures to the very verge of
fainting.

There was now a change in the manner and tone of the shed, especially
towards the end of the day. It was now the ding of the desperate fray,
when the blood of the fierce animal man is up, when mortal blows are
exchanged, and curses float upward with the smoke and dust. The
ceaseless clicking of the shears--the stern earnestness of the men,
toiling with a feverish and tireless energy--the constant succession