At last, Lady Bridget heard the unmistakable sound of cattle in the distance--the low, multitudinous roar of lowing beasts and tramping hoofs and the reverberating crack of stock-whips.

It came from the gidia scrub.

She knew that they had been mustering SCRUBBERS--otherwise, wild cattle from the broken country at the foot of Moongarr Range.
She left the hammock and went again to the veranda railing.

Looking along a side path from the Chinaman's garden she saw that Mrs Hensor and her boy--the yellow-headed urchin of about six--were hastening towards the Bachelors' Quarters.

The woman carried a basket of vegetables, the boy hugged a big pawpaw fruit which he held up proudly as his mother responded in her free-and-easy, rather sulky fashion to Lady Bridget's stiff nod.