"That's all very well, Jeff, but it's easier said than done .-- Do you hear that?
There are cattle down the gully." There was some noise in the air, beside the evening rustle of the south wind among the tree-tops.

Now it sounded like a far-off hubbub of waters, now swelled up harmonious, like the booming of cathedral bells across some rich old English valley on a still summer's afternoon.
"There are cattle down there, certainly," I said, "and a very large number of them; they are not ours, depend upon it: there are men with them, too, or they would not make so much noise.

Can it be the blacks driving them off from the strangers we stayed with last night, do you think?
If so, we had best look out for ourselves." "Blacks could hardly manage such a large mob as there are there," said James.

"I'll tell you what I think it is, old Jeff; it's some new chums going to cross the watershed, and look for new country to the south.

If so, let us go down and meet them: they will camp down by the river yonder." James was right.