Then he held his breath again.
Mr.Hassal and one of the black boys were creeping cautiously up near the gateway through which the tumultuous stream of horns and backs was pouring.

Half a dozen mighty blows from the men, and the last leader fell back for an instant, driving the multitude back behind him.
In that second the two had slipped up the rails and the herd was in two divisions.
Two lines of stockmen again, whip-crackings, bellows, blood, horns, hide and heels in the air, and some forty or fifty were secure in a third yard, a long narrow place with a gate at the end leading into the final division.
Pip learnt from Mr.Gillet the object of these divisions: some of the beasts were almost worthless things, and had been assigned to a buyer for a couple of pounds a head, just for the horns, hides, and what might be got for the flesh.

Others were prime, fat creatures, ready for the butcher and Sydney market.

And others again were splendid animals, of great value for prize and breeding purposes, and were to be made into a separate draft.
The man at the last gateway was doing the all important work of selecting.

He was armed with a short thick stick, and, as the other men drove the animals down towards him, decided with lightning speed to which class they belonged.