“But isn’t a paddock where you feed the sheep?” said Ess in surprise.
“Aye, when there’s feed on it,” said Scottie. “There’s sheep in this paddock now, but it’s big an’ they’re scattered lookin’ for feed.”
The girl gasped. “But there isn’t a sign of grass,” she protested. “Why aren’t they in a paddock where there’s more grass?”
“Because this is one of the best we have left,” said Scottie, grimly. “It rins up to the foot o’ the hills ye’ll see and it gets the last drain o’ the water off them. But there’s been a dry spell awhile back and most o’ the grass is gone.”
“How dreadful,” said Ess Lincoln, gazing with wide eyes on the bare plain that shimmered in the heat. “I’ve heard of how little grass there is out here in dry weather, but I never dreamed it was as bad as this. Why, there’s no grass.”
“The sheep can still find some,” said Scottie, “though I’ll admit they’ll no find it much longer. The front paddocks is eaten as bare as a city sidewalk, and when these back paddocks is cleaned....” He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
“What will happen then?” asked Ess. “You mustn’t mind me asking questions, you know. It’s all so new to me.”
“It depends what the boss thinks,” said Scottie. “We may turn them up on the hills, or we may keep them alive a while longer in the mulga paddocks, cuttin’ down the trees for them tae feed on—or we may kill them tae the last one an’ boil them down for tallow.”
“What a cruel business,” said Ess.
“It’s a cruel country whiles,” said Scottie. “Cruel tae man and beast. But if it came rain to-morrow ye’d see this plain as green as a cut emerald in three days, an’ wi’ plenty of rain the grass would soon be higher than the fence there.”