The gins and the black boys caught fresh mounts out of these and started away, driving some fifty head of cattle selected from a mob that made their headquarters within a few miles of the house.

Most of them were old stagers, and strung away in the evening quite tranquilly, while the blacks, always smoking, rode listlessly after.

Considine produced two stockwhips, and gave one to Charlie.
"No good givin' you one.

Mister," he said to Carew.

"You'd hang yourself with it most likely.