Even the men and the boys had a wan and withered look. Not that they had been on short commons, but, dusty, sunburned, and nervously anxious to secure every animal that could walk to the yard, they harmonised very fittingly with their kine.
When they arrived at the yard Mr. Cottonbush counted them carefully in, and then signified to the vendors that, in his opinion, it would be wise of them to go back and make a final ‘scrape,’ as he expressed it, of their pasture-ground, lest there might inadvertently have been any left behind.
‘That sort of thing always leads to trouble, you know,’ said he; ‘there’s a sort of doubt which were branded and which were not. Now, Mr. Levison bought every hoof you own, no milkers reserved and all that; he don’t believe in having any of the best cattle kept back. So you’d better scour up every beast you can raise before we begin to brand. We can tail this mob, now they’re here.’
This supplementary proceeding resulted in the production of about thirty head of cattle, among which there curiously happened to be, by accident, half a dozen cows considerably above the average in point of breeding and value.
This very trifling matter of a ‘cockatoo’s’ muster having been thus concluded, all the horses having been yarded, and the flock of sheep driven up—Mr. Levison having made it a _sine quâ non_ that he would have all or none—the fires were lighted and the brands put in.
To the wild astonishment of the Freemans, Mr. Cottonbush, having put the [Ǝ]NE brand in the fire, commenced to place that conjoined hieroglyph upon every cow, calf, bullock, and steer, assisted by Mr. Windsor, Charley Banks, and the black boys.
‘Why, “the cove” ain’t bought ‘em, surely?’ said Joe Freeman, with a look of much distrust and disapproval. ‘Where’s he to get the sugar, I want to know; or else it’s a “plant” between him and old Levison.‘
‘When the stock’s counted and branded you’ll get your cheque,’ said the imperturbable manager; ‘that’s all you’ve got to bother your head about. It’s no business of yours, if you’re paid, whether Levison chooses to sell ’em, or boil ’em, or put ’em in a glass case.’
‘Well, I’m blowed,’ said Bill Freeman, ‘if we ain’t regularly sold. If I’d a-known as they was a-comin’ here, I’d have seen Levison in the middle of a mallee scrub with his tongue out for water before I’d have sold him a hoof. One comfort: the cash is all right, and half of these crawlers will die before spring.‘