"It's very hard you won't try and shear decently," retorts Mr Gordon,
by no means conciliated. "Leave the shed!"

Ill-conditioned rascal as the shearer is, he has a mate or
travelling-companion in whose breast exists some rough idea of
fidelity. He now takes up the dialogue.

"I suppose if Jim's shearing don't suit, mine won't either."

"I did not speak to you," answered Mr Gordon, as calmly as if he had
expected the speech, "but of course you can go."

He said this with an air of studied unconcern, as if he would rather
like a dozen more men to knock off work. The two men walk out, but the
epidemic does not spread, and several take the lesson home and mend
their ways accordingly.

The weather now was splendid; not a cloud specked the bright blue
sky. The shearers continue to work at the same express-train
pace; fifty bales of wool roll every day from the wool-presses; as fast
as they reach that number they are loaded upon the numerous drays and
wagons which have been waiting for weeks. Tall brown men have been
recklessly cutting up hides for the last fortnight, wherewith to lash
the bales securely. It is considered safer practice to load wool as
soon as may be; fifty bales represent about a thousand pounds sterling.
In a building, however secure, should a fire break out, a few hundred
bales are easily burned; but once on the dray, this much-dreaded "edax
rerum" in a dry country has little chance. The driver, responsible to
the extent of his freight, generally sleeps under his dray; hence both