Mac, had all gone or were going their ways, leaving us to go
ours - Brown back to hold his bulls at the Red Lilies until further
showers should open up all roads, and Mac to "pick up Tam." But in the
meantime Dan had become Showman of the Showers.
"See anything?" he asked, soon after sun-up, waving his hands towards the
northern slip-rails, as we stood at the head of the thoroughfare speeding
our parting guests; and then he drew attention to the faintest greenish
tinge throughout the homestead enclosure - such a clean-washed-looking
enclosure now.
"That's going to be grass soon," he said, and, the sun coming out with
renewed vigour after another shower, by midday he had gathered a handful
of tiny blades half an inch in length with a chuckling "What did I tell
you?"
By the next midday, grass, inches tall, was rippling all around the
homestead in the now prevalent northwest breeze, and Dan was preparing
for a trip out-bush to see where the showers had fallen, and Mac and Tam
coming in as he went out, Mac greeted us with a jocular: "The flats get
greener every year about the Elsey."
"Indeed!" we said, and Mac, overcome with confusion, spluttered an
apology:
