Jean smilingly bent her head and let the black woman run her fingers over her shining tresses. The gin smiled and, seized by a sudden impulse, Jean said, "She may have a curl if she wants it, Uncle. I have plenty and mother won't care." He handed her his knife and she snipped off a silken strand, which the gin took with many expressions of delight. "You have certainly made a hit among the Blacks," said her uncle teasingly. "She will wear that as a charm and be the envy of all the tribe. Your hair is pretty. "'The world to me knows no fairer sight Than your long hair veiling your shoulders white, As I tangle my hand in your hair my pet.'" he quoted as he stroked the shining mane. "Uncle, I don't think cattle runs are as nice as sheep runs. There aren't any wool sheds, but just open yards." "These are the stock and branding yards. You see the cattle roam the hills, some of the runs being as large as five thousand square miles, on which the cattle find their own food and water." "If they wander over all that distance, how do the owners ever tell their own cattle?" asked Jean. "Every beast is branded, that is, he has his owner's mark burnt into his hide," said her uncle. "So it is easy to draft out of the mobs the cattle which belong to other ranchmen. The young oxen are sent to the coast to be fattened for market, while the old cattle are sent to the rendering works, where they are made into tallow and beef extract. The stockman's life is harder than that of the shepherd, and dangerous because of the bullocks' stampedes, when they break loose and often run down horses and men in their frantic rush for freedom." "I like the sheep run much better," said Jean. "See that flying squirrel, Uncle! I think they are the cunningest little things. Who do you suppose is hiding behind that tree? I heard some one laughing." "Look and see," her uncle smiled. Jean jumped down from her horse and peered behind the tree. There she saw a little bird perched on one leg which sang a pretty little song, always breaking off with "H-ah-ha! Hoo-hoo-hoo!" "That's a laughing jackass, Jeanie," said her uncle. "He's a funny little fellow, isn't he?" "He isn't a bit pretty," said Jean. [Illustration: "'THAT WAS A PLATYPUS, OR WATER MOLE,' SAID MR. McDONALD."] "No, but he's very useful, for he eats snakes and lizards and all kinds of things, and there is a law forbidding any one to kill him." "You have so many queer things in Australia," said Jean. "Down by the river Sandy and I found the queerest thing. It looked part animal and part bird. It had a big flat bill like a duck and fur on its body like a rat, and it had webbed feet and a long bushy tail. Sandy said it was a beastie and was called a water mole, but we found its nest in a kind of tunnel running from the water's edge under ground, and in the nest were eggs."