The factory manager came to see Mort and again I was sent to chalk unwanted orders—I was getting used to this, almost good at it. Then, after a while, I was called back.
 “Come with me,” the manager said gruffly, and led me off toward the main assembly building. I glanced back at the solitary figure of Mort Decker, standing in the doorway of his shed, his face taut as he faced into the crisp wind.
    As we moved into the dark, thunderous shadow of the assembly, Bert spoke the words I might have feared most.
“You’ll work from in here from now on, son,” the factory manager said to my complete horror, “Not good for a young bloke like you, out there in that shed, with them sort of goings on.”
    As if this somehow was good for me, this hellish place where machines so clearly directed the lives of the men.    

Four ragged, dried-up-looking children are playing about the house. Suddenly one of them yells : “Snake ! Mother, here’s a snake ! “
The gaunt, sun-browned bushwoman dashes from the kitchen, snatches her baby from the ground, holds it on her left hip, and reaches for a stick.
“Where is it?”
“Here! Gone into the wood-heap!” yells the eldest boy—a sharp-faced urchin of eleven. “Stop there, mother! I’ll have him. Stand back! I’ll have the beggar!”
“Tommy, come here or you’ll be bit. Come here at once when I tell you, you little wretch!”
The youngster comes reluctantly, carrying a stick bigger than himself. Then he yells triumphantly:
“There he goes—under the house!!” and darts away with the club lifted. At the same time the big black, yellow-eyed, dog-of-all-breeds, who has shown the wildest interest in the proceedings, breaks his chain and rushes after that snake. He is a moment late, however, and his nose reaches the crack in the slabs just as the end of its tail disappears. Almost at the same moment the boy’s club comes down and skins the aforesaid nose. Alligator takes small notice of this, and proceeds to undermine the building; but is subdued after a struggle and chained up. They cannot afford to loose him.
The Drover’s Wife makes the children stand together near the dog-house while she watches for the snake. She gets two small dishes of milk and sets them down near the wall to tempt it to come out; but an hour goes by and it does not show itself…
    The long, lonely all-night vigil of the woman—home minding the kids while her husband is away droving—as she sits it out with the dog, waiting for the snake to reappear, was the most powerful and terrifying images to arise from my schoolbook readings. It is Henry Lawson’s most brilliant work, seven short pages of debilitating suspense.  The Drover’s Wife is the mighty symbol of the pioneer women and the hardships they endured.