On The Wallaby, The Diary of a Queensland Swagman by Edward S. Sorenson

I camped over Sunday by the creek; for though all days may seem alike on the track, very few swagmen travel on the Sabbath if they can help it. I had no tent, there was no house in sight; so I spent the long day under a tree.

On resuming, the first thing that enlivened my way was a roan cow with sunken eyes, and ribbed like a concertina, which charged me at Barker's Creek. I sprang aside, and she struck the ground with her horns, and turning over, broke her neck. Another attempted to turn sharp round to run away, but tripped over her own hoofs and fell. They had passed through a hard winter, and the spring had not yet worked much improvement. This condition of the pastoral industry thereabouts gave no promise of lucrative employment in the near future, for the evident losses would incline the economising squatter to shorten hands rather than to increase his wages account.