Every Few Days A Mob Was Brought In, And Branded, And
Disbanded, Hours Were Spent On The Stockyard Fence; Pack-
Teams were
packed, unpacked, and repacked; and every day grew hotter and hotter, and
every night more and more electric,
And as the days went by we waited for
the Fizzer, hungry for mail-matter, with a six weeks' hunger.
When the Fizzer came in he came with his usual lusty shouting, but varied
his greeting into a triumphant: "Broken the record this time, missus.
Two bags as big as a house and a few et-cet-eras!" And presently he
staggered towards us bent with the weight of a mighty mail. But a Fizzer
without news would not have been our Fizzer, and as he staggered along we
learned that Mac was coming out to clear the run of brumbies. "Be along
in no time now," the Fizzer shouted. "Fallen clean out with
bullock-punching. Wouldn't put his worst enemy to it. Going to tackle
something that'll take a bit of jumping round." Then the mail-bags and
et-cet-eras came down in successive thuds, and no one was better pleased
with its detail than our Fizzer: fifty letters, sixty-nine papers, dozens
of books and magazines, and parcels of garden cuttings.
"Last you for the rest of the year by the look of it," the Fizzer
declared later, finding us at the house walled in with a litter of
mail-matter. Then he explained his interruption. "I'm going straight on
at once," he said "for me horses are none too good as it is, and the lads
say there's a bit of good grass at the nine-mile ", and, going out, we
watched him set off.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 255 of 304
Words from 70659 to 70947
of 84691
