direction. At another time the mob will scatter, and the members of it
prove very unruly. They will charge and rush in every direction but the
right one, and the very devil seems to be in the beasts. Scrambling up
steep ranges, dashing down precipitous ravines, and always forcing a
passage through dense undergrowth and jungle, plunging through marsh and
bog, chasing to right and to left, it is a wonder how dogs and men get
through the work they do. And often there are miles and miles of this
before the welcome clearing comes in view.

What is the condition of a stockman after he has brought up his mob and
yarded it for the night? He has walked and run and scrambled, perhaps,
twenty or thirty miles during the day, and that not over a plain road,
but through the rough and hilly forest. He is totally tired out and
exhausted. He is dripping with sweat, caked with mud from head to foot,
his shirt torn to rags, his skin scratched all over, and very likely
some nasty bruises from tumbles. He has hardly energy enough left to
wash himself. Supper does not revive him, though he stows away an
appallingly large one. And then he stretches himself in his bunk and is
happy. Only, when morning comes again, he awakes stiff and sore. But, no
matter for that, inexorable duty claims him for the same toil. And so
wags our daily life--hard, unremitting, unromantic labour, day after
day, year after year. Still we say it is a glorious life, and we believe
what we say. Anyhow, it is better than being chained to a desk, or
growing purblind "poring over miserable books."

If you can only realize what cattle-hunting means, the shouting and
roaring after them and the dogs, the loss of temper that fatigue
induces, and the consequent aggravation when beasts are unruly, perhaps
you will forgive the Saint for his "exuberant verbosity" in relation to
cattle. Even a real saint might swear under the circumstances, and be
held excused by his peers in the celestial hierarchy.

Our four-year-old steers do not show very large, considered from English
farmers' points of view. Fifteen or sixteen hundred lbs. is about the
maximum of our fat beasts. But the beef is of first-rate quality; and as
bush-fed beasts are in good condition at the end of the dry season, when
pasture-raised cattle are poor, we do as well by them as could be
desired. The bush is always cool and fresh and moist, even when all the
grass is withered and brown on the pastures; and this is on