"Bit of exercise'll do 'em
good," he said; and deciding the bullocks would be safe enough with Jack
and
Jackeroo, we white folk stretched ourselves in the warm firelight
after supper, and, resting, watched the shadowy mob beyond the camp,
listening to the shoutings and gallopings of the watchers as we chatted.
When a white man watches cattle, if he knows his business he quiets his
mob down and then opens them out gradually, to give them room to lie
down, or ruminate standing without rubbing shoulders with a restless
neighbour, which leaves him little to do beyond riding round
occasionally, to keep his "boys" at their posts, and himself alert and
ready for emergencies. But a Chinaman's idea of watching cattle is to
wedge them into a solid body, and hold them huddled together like a mob
of frightened sheep, riding incessantly round them and forcing back every
beast that looks as though it might extricate itself from the tangle, and
galloping after any that do escape with screams of anxiety and impotency.
"Beck! beck!" (back), screamed our drovers, as they galloped after
escaped beasts, flopping and wobbling and gurgling in their saddles like
half-filled water-bags; galloping invariably after the beasts, and
thereby inciting there to further galloping. And "Beck! beck!" shouted
our boys on duty with perfect mimicry of tone and yells of delight at the
impotency of the drovers, galloping always outside the runaways and
bending them back into the mob, flopping and wobbling and gurgling in
their saddles until, in the half light, it was difficult to tell drover
from "boy." Not detecting the mimicry, the drovers in no way resented
it; the more the boys screamed and galloped in their service the better
pleased they were; while the "boys" were more than satisfied with their
part of the entertainment, Jackeroo and Big Jack particularly enjoying
themselves.
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