“I wonder.”
For if the river was in high flood, and over the banks, the Billabong must be full at Grear’s. And suddenly he heard a sound that he knew well. He laid his hand upon Wilson’s shoulder.
“D’ye hear it, sir? What is it?”
But both knew. Grear’s sheep were moving from east and west towards water.
“The blackfellows were right,” said Wilson. “The Billabong is coming down.”
The horses trampled uneasily, and seemed aware of a change. Perhaps they too smelt the grey flood as it crawled. And all the air seemed full of whispers, loud and louder yet. For even the thinned bush is alive, and holds carnival at midnight and beyond it. A snake crawled by them on the dam, and suddenly being aware of nigh enemies, it slipped away hastily, and hid in the hollow trunk of a fallen dwarf box. The sheep on Warribah grew more uneasy; he heard a distant baa, and then a nearer cry, and a plaintive chorus came down the dry, hot wind.
“I can’t listen to ’em,” said Wilson. “It makes me mad.”
He rested his head upon his knees, and kept his hands to his ears. But suddenly he rose up.
“If the water comes we’ll cut the dam, Hill.”
“I would,” said Hill.