o he makes the animals jump that one. Then he
"poddies"-hand-feeds--the calves which have been weaned too early.
He carries the skim-milk to the yard in a bucket made out of an
oil-drum--sometimes a kerosene-tin--seizes a calf by the nape of the
neck with his left hand, inserts the dirty forefinger of his right
into its mouth, and shoves its head down into the milk. The calf sucks,
thinking it has a teat, and pretty soon it butts violently--as calves do
to remind their mothers to let down the milk--and the boy's wrist gets
barked against the jagged edge of the bucket. He welts that calf in the
jaw, kicks it in the stomach, tries to smother it with its nose in the
milk, and finally dismisses it with the assistance of the calf rope and
a shovel, and gets another. His hand feels sticky and the cleaned finger
makes it look as if he wore a filthy, greasy glove with the forefinger
torn off.

The selector himself is standing against a fence talking to a neighbour.
His arms rest on the top rail of the fence, his chin rests on his hands,
his pipe rests between his fingers, and his eyes rest on a white
cow that is chewing her cud on the opposite side of the fence. The
neighbour's arms rest on the top rail also, his chin rests on his hands,
his pipe rests between his fingers, and his eyes rest on the cow. They
are talking about that cow. They have been talking about her for three
hours. She is chewing her cud. Her nose is well up and forward, and her
eyes are shut. She lets her lower jaw fall a little, moves it to one
side, lifts it again, and brings it back into position with a springing
kind of jerk that has almost a visible recoil. Then her jaws stay
perfectly still for a moment, and you would think she had stopped
chewing. But she hasn't. Now and again a soft, easy, smooth-going
swallow passes visibly along her clean, white throat and disappears. She
chews again, and by and by she loses consciousness and forgets to chew.
She never opens her eyes. She is young and in good condition; she has
had enough to eat, the sun is just properly warm for her, and--well, if
an animal can be really happy, she ought to be.

Presently the two men drag themselves away from the fence, fill their
pipes, and go to have a look at some rows of forked sticks, apparently
stuck in the ground for some purpose. The selector calls these sticks
fruit-trees, and he calls the place "the orchard." They fool round these
wretched sticks until dinnertime, when