"Not too bad, though," he said, reviewing the years work, after fixing up
a sleeping camp for the Wet.
The camp consisted of a tent-fly, extended verandah-like behind the
Quarters, open on three sides to the air and furnished completely with a
movable four-legged wooden bunk: and surveying it with satisfaction, as
the Willy-Willys danced about it, Dan reckoned it looked pretty
comfortable. "No fear of catching cold, anyway," he said, and meant it,
having got down to the root of hygiene; for among Dan's pet theories was
the theory that "houses are fine things to catch cold in," backing up the
theory by adding: "Never slept in one yet without getting a cold."
The camp fixed up, Dan found himself among the unemployed, and, finding
the Maluka had returned to station books and the building of that garden
fence, and that Jack had begun anew his horse-breaking with a small mob
of colts, he envied them their occupation.
"Doing nothing's the hardest job I ever struck," he growled, shifting
impatiently from shade to shade, and dratting the flies and dust; and
even sank so low as to envy the missus her house.
