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Turner, Ethel Sybil, 1872-1958

"Seven Little Australians"

He was armed with a short thick stick, and, as the other
men drove the animals down towards him, decided with lightning speed
to which class they belonged. A heavy blow on the nose, a sharp,
rapid series of them between the eyes, and the most violent brute
plunged blindly whither the driver sent him. All the day work went on,
and just as the great hot purple shadows began to fall across the
plain they secured the last rail, the battle was over, and the animals
in approved divisions.
Pip ate enough salt beef and damper to half kill him, drank more tea
than he had ever disposed of at one sitting in all his fourteen years,
swung himself into his saddle in close imitation of the oldest
stockman, and thought if he only could have a black, evil-looking
pipe like Tettawonga and the rest of the men his happiness would be
complete and his manhood attained.
He reached home as tired as "a dozen dogs and a dingo," and
entertained his sisters and Bunty with a graphic account of the
day's proceedings, dwelling lengthily on his own prowess and the
manifold perils he had escaped.
The next day both Esther and Judy rode with the others to the yards
to see the departures.


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