They also resembled each other, and all other days out-bush, in
the necessity of dressing in a camp mosquito net. "Stagnation!" they
called it, when no day was long enough for its work, and almost every
night found us camped a day's journey from our breakfast camp.
It was August, well on in the Dry, and on a cattle station in the
Never-Never "things hum" in August. All the surface waters are drying up
by then, and the outside cattle--those scattered away beyond the
borders--are obliged to come in to the permanent waters, and must be
gathered in and branded before the showers scatter them again.
We were altogether at the Springs: Dan, the Dandy, the Quiet Stockman,
ourselves, every horse-"boy" that could be mustered, a numerous staff of
camp "boys" for the Dandy's work, and an almost complete complement of
dogs, Little Tiddle'ums only being absent, detained at the homestead this
time with the cares of a nursery. A goodly company all told as we sat
among the camp fires, with our horses clanking through the timber in
their hobbles: forty horses and more, pack teams and relays for the whole
company and riding hacks, in addition to both stock and camp horses for
active mustering; for it requires over two hundred horses to get through
successfully a year's work on a "little place like the Elsey.
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