Поющие в терновнике

           Tolookacrossthepaddocksrequiredslittedeyesandahatbrimdrawnfardownontheforehead;thegrasswasmirror-silver,andlittlespiralwhirlwindsspedbusilyamongshimmeringbluemirages,transferringdeadleavesandfracturedgrassbladesfromonerestlessheaptoanother.

           Oh,butitwasdry!Eventhetreesweredry,thebarkfallingfromtheminstiff,crunchyribbons.Nodangeryetofthesheepstarving—thegrasswouldlastanotheryearatleast,maybemore—butnoonelikedtoseeeverythingsodry.Therewasalwaysagoodchancetherainwouldnotcomenextyear,ortheyearafter.Inagoodyeartheygottentofifteeninches,inabadyearlessthanfive,perhapsclosetononeatall.

           Inspiteoftheheatandtheflies,Meggielovedlifeoutinthepaddocks,walkingthechestnutmarebehindableatingmobofsheepwhilethedogslayflatontheground,tongueslolling,deceptivelyinattentive.Letonesheepboltoutofthetightlypackedclusterandthenearestdogwouldbeaway,astreakofvengeance,sharpteethhungeringtonipintoahaplessheel.

           Meggierodeaheadofhermob,awelcomereliefafterbreathingtheirdustforseveralmiles,andopenedthepaddockgate.Shewaitedpatientlywhilethedogs,revelinginthischancetoshowherwhattheycoulddo,bitandgoadedthesheepthrough.Itwashardermusteringanddrovingcattle,fortheykickedorcharged,oftenkillinganunwarydog;thatwaswhenthehumanherdsmanhadtobereadytodohisbit,usehiswhip,butthedogslovedthespiceofdangerworkingcattle.