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CHAPTER IX
UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS
"They can't call us sundowners, with this grub on board," Tempest said, shouldering the parcel. "I don't mind having a lazy time now and again when I 've earned it, but no man breathing shall call me a sundowner."
"What's that," asked Dave, trudging along.
"A sundowner, my son, is a peculiar breed of creature that would as soon fondle a rattlesnake as do a day's work. He is born tired and never gets over it. He faints right away at the sight of a pick or shovel; and if he should happen to do an honest day's labor, he talks about it for years afterward. He has reduced the art of dodging work to a science. Most all farms in Australia will give a man a square meal and some sort of
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