his age and long experience of the rights and laws of the craft. He was
a weather-beaten, wiry old Englishman, whose face and accent, darkened
as the former was by the Australian summers of half a century, still
retained the trace of his native Devonshire. It was his boast that he
had shorn for forty years, and as regularly "knocked-down" (or spent in
a single debauch) his shearing money. Lawson represented the small
free-holders, being a steady, shrewd fellow, and one of the fastest
shearers. Billy May stood for the fashion and "talent," being the
"Ringer," or fastest shearer of the whole assembly, and as such truly
admirable and distinguished.

"Well now, men," quoth Mr Gordon, cheerily meeting matters half-way,
"what's it all about?" The younger delegate looked at Old Ben, who, now
that it "was demanded of him to speak the truth," or such dilution
thereof as might seem most favourable to the interests of the shed,
found a difficulty like many wiser men about his exordium.

"Well, Muster Gordon," at length he broke forth, "look'ee here, sir.
The weather's been awful bad, and clean agin shearing. We've not been
earning our grub, and--"

"So it has," answered the manager, "so it has. But can I help the
weather? I'm as anxious as you are to have the shearing over quickly.
We're both of one mind about that, eh?"

"That's all right enough, sir," struck in Abraham Lawson, who felt that
Ben was getting the worst of the argument, and was moreover far less
fluent than usual, probably from being deprived of the aid of the
customary expletives, "but we're come to say this, sir, that the
season's turned out very wet indeed. We've had a deal of broken