When we were mustering the other side of the run, it came to our camping at a sandy creek where we could dig in the sand and get just enough for horses and men.

The water of the Bore I'd made, was a bit brackish, but it kept the grass alive round about and was all the cattle had to depend on.
You can think of the job it was shifting the beasts over there from other parts of the run which was what we tried to do, so long as they were fit for it.
We were selling what we could while there was still life left in the herd, but the cattle were too far gone for droving.

We managed to collect a hundred or so--sent them in trucks from Crocodile Creek Terminus, for boiling down and netted about thirty shillings a head on them.

That was all.

I guess that--by this time, out of my eleven thousand head with No.