hide; and that the potatoes had apparently been plucked before they were ripe, for they were mostly green inside. He evidently meant the last remark for a joke.
Then the shearer's volcano showed signs of activity. He shifted round, spat impatiently, and said,
'You chaps don't know what yer taking about. You want something to grumble about. You should have been out with me last year on the Paroo in Noo South Wales. The meat we got there was so bad that it uster travel!'
'What?'
'Yes! travel! take the track! go on the wallaby! The cockies over there used to hang the meat up to the branches of the trees, and just shake it whenever they wanted to feed the fowls. And the water was so bad that half-a-pound of tea in the billy wouldn't made no impression on the colour―nor the taste. The further west we went the worse our meat got, till at last we had to carry a dog-chain to chain it up at night. Then it got worse and broke the chain, and then we had to train the blessed dogs to shepherd it and bring it back. But we fell in with another chap with a bad old dog―a downright knowing, thieving, old hard-case of a dog; and this dog led our dogs astray―demoralized them―corrupted their morals―and so one morning they came home with the blooming meat inside of them, instead of outside―and we had to go hungry for breakfast.'
'You'd better turn in, gentlemen. I'm going to turn off the electric light,' said the steward.
