dirty forefinger of his right into its mouth, and shoves its head down
into the milk. The calf sucks, thinking it has a teat, and pretty
soon it butts violently--as calves do to remind their mothers to let
down the milk--and the boy's wrist gets barked against the jagged edge
of the bucket. He welts that calf in the jaw, kicks it in the
stomach, tries to smother it with its nose in the milk, and finally
dismisses it with the assistance of the calf rope and a shovel, and
gets another. His hand feels sticky and the cleaned finger makes it
look as if he wore a filthy, greasy glove with the forefinger torn
off.

The selector himself is standing against a fence talking to a
neighbour. His arms rest on the top rail of the fence, his chin rests
on his hands, his pipe rests between his fingers, and his eyes rest on
a white cow that is chewing her cud on the opposite side of the fence.
The neighbour's arms rest on the top rail also, his chin rests on his
hands, his pipe rests between his fingers, and his eyes rest on the
cow. They are talking about that cow. They have been talking about
her for three hours. She is chewing her cud. Her nose is well up and
forward, and her eyes are shut. She lets her lower jaw fall a little,
moves it to one side, lifts it again, and brings it back into position
with a springing kind of jerk that has almost a visible recoil. Then
her jaws stay perfectly still for a moment, and you would think she
had stopped chewing. But she hasn't. Now and again a soft, easy,
smooth-going swallow passes visibly along her clean, white throat and
disappears. She chews again, and by and by she loses consciousness
and forgets to chew. She never opens her eyes. She is young and in
good condition; she has had enough to eat, the sun is just properly
warm for her, and--well, if an animal can be really happy, she ought
to be.