We camped on the Queensland side of the fence, and after tea had a
yarn with an old man who was minding a mixed flock of goats and sheep;
and we asked him whether he thought Queensland was better than New
South Wales, or the other way about.

He scratched the back of his head, and thought a while, and hesitated
like a stranger who is going to do you a favour at some personal
inconvenience.

At last, with the bored air of a man who has gone through the same
performance too often before, he stepped deliberately up to the fence
and spat over it into New South Wales. After which he got leisurely
through and spat back on Queensland.

"That's what I think of the blanky colonies!" he said.

He gave us time to become sufficiently impressed; then he said:

"And if I was at the Victorian and South Australian border I'd do the
same thing."

He let that soak into our minds, and added: "And the same with West
Australia--and--and Tasmania." Then he went away.

The last would have been a long spit--and he forgot Maoriland.

We heard afterwards that his name was Clancy and he had that day been
offered a job droving at "twenty-five shillings a week and find your
own horse." Also find your own horse feed and tobacco and soap and