“Go back and fetch Jim, and bring shovels,” said Wilson. “I’ll cut it. If the water comes, I’ve a right to it.”
And Hill rode homeward fast. And as he rode the boss sat still upon the dam, and looked upon the faintly outlined hollow of the ancient waterway. And again he dozed, and did not see that round the far bend of the hollow came a sneaking, quiet band of grey water, like a crawling snake. But as he slept the night chorus increased, and away to the south the full sheep baa’ed with content. The Warribah sheep heard and knew, and moved south through the night: and suddenly ten thousand broke into a gallop, and stayed in a heap against the fence that topped the dam. Their voices agonised; they woke Wilson suddenly, and he reached out his hand and touched water.
And he heard horses galloping. This was Hill returning.
“Thank God!” said Wilson, and he prayed to Heaven with sudden thankfulness.
But then he started, for the horses came from the south. They came from Grear’s, and he knew what that meant.
“I’ll do it if I have to kill him,” said Wilson. For behind him the painful chorus of the sheep was deafening. He saw them packed against the bulging wires. His heart bled for them, his children.
And then three horses burst through the thin bush.
“Oh, we’re in time,” said Grear. “I thought as much, but we’re in time. Who’s that?”
“Wilson of Warribah,” said Wilson. “Grear, you will let the water through.”
And Grear laughed.