"They kill from pure mischief and love of slaughter, even when they don't want the meat.
But I don't suppose it makes much difference.

I expect the sheep have dropped as much from thirst as from fatigue, and they would probably have never been got up again, after they once fell.

I fancy we shall come upon a stream, before long.

I have never been out as far as this before, but I know that there is a branch of the Nammo crosses the bush here, somewhere." Another five miles, and they came upon the river.

The wet season was only just over, and the river was full from bank to bank.