an-Reade, of Winton. On our return to Davonport Downs, we found Mr.
McGuigan laid up with fever, so I took him into Winton.

In November, 1884, Sir Thos. McIlwraith, who had been inspecting his
stations, passed through Winton, but while at Ayrshire Downs he received
news of his father's death, and refused all demonstrations. I drove him
to Vindex. On the road out I told him I contemplated leaving for England
the following year. He gave me many hints for my guidance; also a
letter of introduction to his brother, William McIlwraith, in London.

The western country was now suffering from a very severe and prolonged
drought which brought ruin to many men, and heavy loss to those who
pulled through. Taking advantage of the dry spell, I had a small tank
excavated in my paddock. A heavy thunderstorm, averaging a little over
two inches, fell over the town, and being anxious to learn if it had any
water, I asked two friends to walk with me to the tank. We plodded about
a mile in the heavy soil. I was satisfied with the result of my
inspection; not so my companions, who lost their shoes in the boggy
ground, and heaped anathemas on me and my dam.

Altogether their language on the return journey was of a very lurid
nature.

This was the first rain for eleven months, and to celebrate it, Winton
held carnival for three weeks, during which time no business of any sort
was attempted. The time was devoted to sports and jollifications. About
two miles east and west of the town ran wire fences, the road passing
through gates. The peculiarity of this storm was that no rain fell
beyond the fences. It was a strange sight to see green grass on one side
of the wires and outside perfectly bare.

I have somewhere in this narrative alluded to lignum, and it may not be
out of place at this juncture to describe what it is. Lignum is a small
shrub which grows in the dry-water courses. It is much used as walls of
houses--timber and iron being very expensive--roofing sheds, and such
like. It does not keep out the rain, but is sun proof. With the
thermometer running well past the 100 deg. in the shade, a roasting hot
wind such as obtains in the western country, there are many worse
pleasures to be enjoyed in the west than a lignum shed and a canvas bag
of cool rain water. Had old Omar known of the canvas water bag, he would
prefer to sing its praises rather than those of a jug of wine. Blessings
on the man who first thought of it.

CHAPTER