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- Колин Маккалоу
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Predators
were
there
,
too
:
wild
pigs
frightened
of
nothing
,
savage
and
flesh-eating
,
black
hairy
things
the
size
of
fully
grown
cows
;
dingoes
,
the
wild
native
dogs
which
slunk
close
to
the
ground
and
blended
into
the
grass
;
crows
in
hundreds
carking
desolately
from
the
blasted
white
skeletons
of
dead
trees
;
hawks
and
eagles
,
hovering
motionless
on
the
air
currents
.
From
some
of
these
the
sheep
and
cattle
had
to
be
protected
,
especially
when
they
dropped
their
young
.
The
kangaroos
and
rabbits
ate
the
precious
grass
;
the
pigs
and
dingoes
ate
lambs
,
calves
and
sick
animals
;
the
crows
pecked
out
eyes
.
The
Clearys
had
to
learn
to
shoot
,
then
carried
rifles
as
they
rode
,
sometimes
to
put
a
suffering
beast
out
of
its
misery
,
sometimes
to
fell
a
boar
or
a
dingo
.
This
,
thought
the
boys
exultantly
,
was
life
.
Not
one
of
them
yearned
for
New
Zealand
;
when
the
flies
clustered
like
syrup
in
the
corners
of
their
eyes
,
up
their
noses
,
in
their
mouths
and
ears
,
they
learned
the
Australian
trick
and
hung
corks
bobbing
from
the
ends
of
strings
all
around
the
brims
of
their
hats
.
To
prevent
crawlies
from
getting
up
inside
the
legs
of
their
baggy
trousers
they
tied
strips
of
kangaroo
hide
called
bowyangs
below
their
knees
,
giggling
at
the
silly-sounding
name
,
but
awed
by
the
necessity
.
New
Zealand
was
tame
compared
to
this
;
this
was
life
.
Tied
to
the
house
and
its
immediate
environs
,
the
women
found
life
much
less
to
their
liking
,
for
they
had
not
the
leisure
or
the
excuse
to
ride
,
nor
did
they
have
the
stimulation
of
varying
activities
.
It
was
just
harder
to
do
what
women
always
did
:
cook
,
clean
,
wash
,
iron
,
care
for
babies
.
They
battled
the
heat
,
the
dust
,
the
flies
,
the
many
steps
,
the
muddy
water
,
the
nearly
perennial
absence
of
men
to
carry
and
chop
wood
,
pump
water
,
kill
fowls
.
The
heat
especially
was
hard
to
bear
,
and
it
was
as
yet
only
early
spring
;
even
so
,
the
thermometer
out
on
the
shady
veranda
reached
a
hundred
degrees
every
day
.
Inside
the
kitchen
with
the
range
going
,
it
was
a
hundred
and
twenty
degrees
.
Their
many
layers
of
clothing
were
close-fitting
and
designed
for
New
Zealand
,
where
inside
the
house
it
was
almost
always
cool
.
Mary
Carson
,
exercising
gently
by
walking
down
to
see
her
sister-in-law
,
looked
at
Fee
's
high-necked
,
floor-length
calico
gown
superciliously
.
She
herself
was
clad
in
the
new
fashion
,
a
cream
silk
dress
coming
only
halfway
down
her
calves
,
with
loose
elbow
sleeves
,
no
waist
and
a
low
décolletage
.
"
Really
,
Fiona
,
you
're
hopelessly
old-fashioned
,
"
she
said
,
glancing
round
the
parlor
with
its
fresh
coat
of
cream
paint
,
the
Persian
carpets
and
the
spindly
priceless
furniture
.
"
I
have
no
time
to
be
anything
else
,
"
Fee
said
,
curtly
for
her
when
acting
as
hostess
.
"
You
'll
have
more
time
now
,
with
the
men
away
so
much
and
fewer
meals
to
get
.
Raise
your
hems
and
stop
wearing
petticoats
and
stays
,
or
you
'll
die
when
summer
comes
.
It
can
get
fifteen
to
twenty
degrees
hotter
than
this
,
you
know
.
"
Her
eyes
dwelled
on
the
portrait
of
the
beautiful
blond
woman
in
her
Empress
Eugénie
crinoline
.
"
Who
's
that
?
"
she
asked
,
pointing
.
"
My
grandmother
.
"
