Explore "The Squatter's Dream" by Rolf Boldrewood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"And did she love him? What and if she did? / Love cannot cool the burning Austral sands, / Nor show the secret waters that lie hid / In arid valleys of that desert land. " -- _Jean Ingelow._
The season had not been a good one for grass. It was a very good one for wool. Save a little dust, no exception could be taken to anything. The clip was well grown; the washing simply perfection. The lambing had been a fortunate one. Counting these aspirants for the trials and triumphs to which the merino proper is foredoomed, the count stood well over sixty thousand sheep, of all ages. But a few months since, what a comfortable sum of money did they represent; whereas now -- but it would not bear thinking of! The shearers even seemed to be unnaturally good and easy to manage now that no particular benefit could accrue from their conduct. Everything was right but the one important fact, which lay at the root -- the price of stock. Even if that had improved, the season was going to turn and evilly entreat them; the "stars in their courses fought against Sisera; " and Jack began to consider himself as his modern exemplar -- the prey of the gods!