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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Never knew the showers so late," he growled; and the homestead was inclined to agree that it was the "dead-finish"; but remembering that even then our Fizzer was battling through that last stage of the Dry, we were silent, and Dan remembering also, devoted himself to the "missus," she being also a person of leisure now the Willy-Willys were at rest.
Perhaps in the silence that fell over the bush homes, after his mail-bags were opened, his own heart slipped away to dear ones, who were waiting somewhere for news of our Fizzer. Eight mails ONLY in a year is not all disadvantage.
But then supper came every night and the Fizzer once in forty-two. At the first sound of voices, Cheon bustled in. After supper, as we went for our evening stroll, we stayed for a little while where the men were lounging, and after a general interchange of news the Fizzer's turn came. News! He had said he had stacks of it, and he now bubbled over with it.
The Fizzer was one of those happy, natural people who always find the supply exactly suited to the demand. But if our Fizzer was just our Fizzer, the Quiet Stockman was changing every day.
Every few days a mob was brought in, and branded, and disbanded, hours were spent on the stockyard fence; pack-teams were packed, unpacked, and repacked; and every day grew hotter and hotter, and every night more and more electric, and as the days went by we waited for the Fizzer, hungry for mail-matter, with a six weeks' hunger.
"Keep 'em going all night," the Fizzer says; "and if you should happen to be at Anthony's on the day I'm due there you can set your watch for eleven in the morning when you see me coming along." I have heard somewhere of the Pride of Harness.
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