My nerves had hardly recovered the shock of having the care of such a huge patient thrust on me; for, seriously speaking, Fenwick took a good deal of nursing and attention before he got well again, when we had another night alarm.

Our beautiful summer weather was breaking up; high nor'-westers had blown down the gorges for days, and now a cold wet gale was coming up in heavy banks of fleecy clouds from the sou'-west.
Everything looked cold and wretched out of doors, but the sheep-farmers were thankful and pleased.

Their "mobs" could find excellent shelter for themselves, for it takes _very_ bad weather to hurt a Merino sheep, and the creeks had been running rather low.

"We shall have a splendid autumn after this is over," said all the squatters gleefully, "with lots of feed: there's Tyler's creek coming down beautifully." So I was fain to be content, though my fowls looked draggled and wretched, and my pet patch of mignonette became a miniature desert, its fragrance being all blown and rain-beaten away.

Good fires of lignite and wood made the house cheery, and we went to bed, hoping for fine weather next day.