ant locality, where experience has taught him such
and such a mob are likely to be feeding. On his way he takes note of any
cattle he may come across, marks the gullies they are in, and thus,
having knowledge of the ways of cattle, is able to guess within a mile
or two where those mobs are likely to be found when wanted.

Moreover, a good stockman gets to be experienced in tracking. He reads
"sign" in every broken bough or trampled water-hole, and this guides him
in finding the mob he wants. We know the bush around us pretty well by
this time, about as well, in fact, as a cabman knows the streets of
London. It is all mapped out in our minds, and we talk of various spots
by name, either their Maori names, if they have such, or fancy titles we
have given them.

Of course, the dogs are our main reliance, though, even without them,
such able hands as Old Colonial and the Saint can get on well enough.
But clever, well-trained cattle-dogs are a treasure beyond price in the
bush; and this we know, taking great pains with our colleys. The cattle
lie very close in the dense thickets of foliage, and hide themselves
from sight. One may run slap into a beast before it will move. But the
dogs traverse the gullies on the stockman's flanks, and start up any
cattle that may be in them. Here is where the value of the dogs
consists, for, if they are not well-trained, they may run after wild
pigs, or rats, or kiwis, and give a lot of trouble.

Sometimes, after tracking the forest for many a weary mile, the stockman
will have to return without finding the mob he wanted. Occasionally he
will have to camp out, not because of losing himself--that seldom
happens to us now--but because of the distance he is from home. So a
stockman rarely goes out without three requisites about him--food,
matches, and tobacco. Except in wet weather, camping out is no
particular hardship to us. One can always make oneself comfortable
enough in the bush, if one has those three articles, that are the
bushman's "never-be-withouts."

When the cattle are found, belonging to a mob that the stockman thinks
proper to drive home, comes some very heavy and exciting work. We call
our beasts tame, and so they are in a sense; still, compared to the
gentle creatures one sees on English meadows, they are scarcely to be so
characterized.

At one time a mob will head for home, and go straight and quietly
enough, needing only the dogs at their heels to keep them in the right