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From: | Tibbie Gunn |
Subject: | [Bug-kawa] sandpaper |
Date: | Sat, 9 Sep 2006 18:48:10 +0800 |
Alonga dere, replied the black, his spear
indicating the river and themargins of reeds.
Leslie interposed to say, Im riding Lady Jane.
Sterl and Red got there as the drovers were dismounting, to sinkankle-deep in the
mud.
But Les and I are not to blame for being born
women.
Erics head had been dragged throughthe mud. Across
the river crocodiles basked in the sun, theirodor thick on the air. The horses had
scattered off to the left toward camp.
The big job done the drovers took time outfor a cup
of tea. Eric Dann still clung to the drivers seat.
But Dann preferred to have thecowboy on shore,
rifle in hand, and selected Heald.
Stanley Dann was yelling for his brother to climb
back over thewagon and leap for his life.
Bligh, I grieve to inform you that he is, he
said.
I lie with the cold chills creeping over me. He
hurried the unpacking, and the hitching oftwo big draft horses to Rolands
wagon.
Rollie, with a bag in front of himand a cracking
stockwhip in hand, kept abreast of the teams.
Sterl did not fire because he did not want to drive
the brute under wateragain. Eric Dann must havebeen wrenched by physical pain and
mental anguish to a point beyondresistance. Friday sighted crocodiles,but none came
near. Sterland Red helped muster them and drove them within sight of the wagons. But
there wasanother rush and zoom as a big one catapulted off the bank to meet a hailof
lead. Well leavethose cattle that started the rush last night until the last.
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