IN A WET SEASON
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generations, they held several gallons of water each. We scuttled one, rolled ourself in a rug, and tried to sleep; but all night long overcoated and comfortered bushmen would get in, let down all the windows, and then get out again at the next station. Then we would wake up frozen and shut the windows.
We dozed off again, and woke at daylight, and recognised the ridgy gum-country between Dubbo and Orange. It didn't look any drearier than the country further west―because it couldn't. There is scarcely a part of the country out west which looks less inviting or more horrible than any other part.
The weather cleared, and we had sunlight for Orange, Bathurst, the Blue Mountains, and Sydney, They deserve it; also as much rain as they need.
