by chyacking him.

"I've heard he's a dirty and slow cook," says one, addressing
Eternity.

"Ah!" says the cook, "you'll be glad to come to me for a pint of
flour when I'm cooking and you're on the track, some day.

Sunset. Some of the men sit at the end of the hut to get the full
benefit of a breeze which comes from the west. A great bank of
rain-clouds is rising in that direction, but no one says he thinks it
will rain; neither does anybody think we're going to have some rain.
None but the greenest jackaroo would venture that risky and foolish
observation. Out here, it can look more like rain without raining,
and continue to do so for a longer time, than in most other places.

The Wreck went down to the station this afternoon to get some medicine
and bush medical advice. The Bourke sawney helped him to do up his
swag; he did it with an awed look and manner, as though he thought it
a great distinction to be allowed to touch the belongings of such a
curiosity. It was afterwards generally agreed that it was a good idea
for the Wreck to go to the station; he would get some physic and, a
bit of tucker to take him on. "For they'll give tucker to a sick man
sooner than to a chap what's all right."

The Exception is rooting about in the rubbish for the other blucher
boot.

The men get a little more sociable, and "feel" each other to find
out who's "Union," and talk about water, and exchange hints as to