An hour passed.  The meal was concluded; the smoke was over; and the more careful men were back in the shed sharpening their shears by two o’clock.  Punctually at that hour the bell repeated its summons de Capo.  The warm afternoon gradually lengthened its shadows; the shears clicked in tireless monotone; the pens filled and became empty.  The wool-presses yawned for the mountain of fleeces which filled the bins in front of them, divided into various grades of excellence, and continuously disgorged them, neatly and cubically packed and branded.

At six o’clock the bell brought the day’s work to a close.  The sheep of each man were counted in his presence, and noted down with scrupulous care, the record being written out in full and hung up for public inspection in the shed next day.  This important ceremony over, master and men, manager, labourers and supernumeraries, betook themselves to their separate abodes, with such keen avoidance of delay that in five minutes not a soul was left in or near the great building lately so busy and populous, except the boys who were sweeping up the floor.  The silence of ages seems to fall and settle upon it.

Next morning at a rather earlier hour every man is at his post.  Business is meant decidedly.  Now commences the delicate and difficult part of the superintendence which keeps Mr Gordon at his post in the shed, nearly from daylight till dark, for from eight to ten weeks.  During the first day he has formed a sort of gauge of each man’s temper and workmanship.  For now, and henceforth, the natural bias of each shearer will appear.  Some try to shear too fast, and in their haste shear badly.  Some are rough and savage with the sheep, which do occasionally kick and become unquiet at critical times; and it must be confessed are provoking enough.  Some shear very fairly and handsomely to a superficial eye, but commit the unpardonable offence of “leaving wool on.”  Some are deceitful, shearing carefully when overlooked, but “racing” and otherwise misbehaving directly the eye of authority is diverted.  These and many other tricks and defects require to be noted and abated, quietly but firmly, by the manager of the shed—­firmly because evil would develop and spread ruinously if not checked; quietly because immense loss might be incurred by a strike.  Shearing differs from other work in this wise:  it is work against time, more especially in Riverina.  If the wool be not off the backs of the sheep before November, all sorts of draw-backs and destructions supervene.  The spear-shaped grass-seeds, specially formed as if in special collusion with the Evil One, hasten to bury themselves in the wool, and even in the flesh of the tender victims.  Dust rises in red clouds from the unmoistened, betrampled meadows so lately verdurous and flower-spangled.  From snowy white to an unlovely dark brown turn the carefully washed fleeces, causing anathema from overseers and depreciation from brokers.  All these losses of temper, trouble, and money become inevitable if shearing be protracted, it may be, beyond a given week.