bullock essayed to charge them, but the air resounded with cracks from
the mighty stock whips and drafting-sticks, and beast after beast
retreated towards the centre with its face dripping with blood.

Then one huge black creature, with a bellow that seemed to shake
the plain, made a wild rush to the gate, the whole herd at his heels.
Like lightning, the men made a line behind, shouting, yelling,
cracking their whips to drive them onward. Pip stood up and halloed,
absolutely beside himself with excitement. Then he held his breath
again.

Mr. Hassal and one of the black boys were creeping cautiously up
near the gateway through which the tumultuous stream of horns and
backs was pouring. Half a dozen mighty blows from the men, and
the last leader fell back for an instant, driving the multitude back
behind him.

In that second the two had slipped up the rails and the herd was in
two divisions.

Two lines of stockmen again, whip-crackings, bellows, blood, horns,
hide and heels in the air, and some forty or fifty were secure in a
third yard, a long narrow place with a gate at the end leading into
the final division.

Pip learnt from Mr. Gillet the object of these divisions: some of
the beasts were almost worthless things, and had been assigned to a
buyer for a couple of pounds a head, just for the horns, hides, and
what might be got for the flesh. Others were prime, fat creatures,
ready for the butcher and Sydney market. And others again were