his own about that fence. He laughed so much that he couldn't get
away when I reached for him. I could hardly eat him for laughing. I
never saw a rabbit laugh before; but I've seen a 'possum do it.

Hungerford consists of two houses and a humpy in New South Wales, and
five houses in Queensland. Characteristically enough, both the pubs
are in Queensland. We got a glass of sour yeast at one and paid
sixpence for it--we had asked for English ale.

The post office is in New South Wales, and the police-barracks in
Bananaland. The police cannot do anything if there's a row going on
across the street in New South Wales, except to send to Brisbane and
have an extradition warrant applied for; and they don't do much if
there's a row in Queensland. Most of the rows are across the border,
where the pubs are.

At least, I believe that's how it is, though the man who told me might
have been a liar. Another man said he was a liar, but then _he_
might have been a liar himself--a third person said he was one. I
heard that there was a fight over it, but the man who told me about
the fight might not have been telling the truth.

One part of the town swears at Brisbane when things go wrong, and the
other part curses Sydney.

The country looks as though a great ash-heap had been spread out
there, and mulga scrub and firewood planted--and neglected. The
country looks just as bad for a hundred miles round Hungerford, and
beyond that it gets worse--a blasted, barren wilderness that doesn't
even howl. If it howled it would be a relief.