Cx.'V\ 
 
 - 4 
 
 --dh (2^ ■ eLn^^i. 
 
 L I B RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 U N IVERSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 v.l
 
 ^ 
 
 >r 
 
 Return this book on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 University of Illinois Library 
 
 ^'^'^ 2 0[)G3 
 
 L161— H41
 
 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND
 
 BTJSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND 
 
 OR 
 
 JOHN WEST'S COLONIAL EXPERIENCES 
 
 BY 
 
 A. C. GEANT 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXXI 
 
 All Riglits reserved
 
 
 K 
 
 1 
 
 TO 
 
 MY BELOVED MOTHEE 
 
 WHO AT AN ADVANCED AGE CROSSED THE SEAS TO 
 ASSIST HER SONS IN SUBDUING THE WILDERNESS, 
 
 AND IN REMEMBRANCE OF 
 HER DEVOTION, COURAGE, AND STEADFASTNESS ^ 
 IN EVERY TRIAL AND DIFFICULTY, 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 IS DUTIFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 
 
 N 
 
 i 
 
 \ 200849
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIEST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. JOHN WEST SETS OUT ON HIS TRAVELS, . . 1 
 
 II. ON BOARD THE MARIE HAMILTON, . . . 10 
 
 in. IPSWICH IN THE OLD DAYS A " JACKAROO " 
 
 ON HORSEBACK, . . . . . 26 
 
 IV. A START UP-COUNTRY, . . . . . • 35 
 
 V. ROADSIDE SCENES NIGHT AT A STATION AR- 
 RIVAL AT CAMBARANGA, . . . . 41 
 
 VI. NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WORK A VISIT 
 
 TO THE BLACKS* CAMP, . . . . 52 
 VIL OLD JACKY IN A FIX — SHEARING AND WASH- 
 ING, 76 
 
 VIIL A DESPERATE RIDE ON A STRANGE STEED — 
 
 HORSE-BREAKING, . . . . . 89 
 
 IX. HORSE-BREAKING — RUNNING IN THE YELLOW 
 
 MOB, 106 
 
 X. A HARLEQUINADE — BETYAMMO AND THE GRAYS, 123 
 
 XI. EARLY MORNING AT THE GRAYS' A RIDE TO 
 
 UNGAHRUN THE CATTLE-BUYER, . . 145
 
 vm CONTENTS. 
 
 XII. THE cattle-buyer's YARN, . . . .164 
 
 XIII. THE cattle-buyer's YARN CONTINUED, . . 172 
 
 XIV. MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER — DRAFTING 
 
 ON THE CAMP, . . . . '. .188 
 
 XV. OUT AFTER SCRUBBERS THROUGH THE BUSH 
 
 THE SOLEMN SCRUB CAMPING OUT, . . 204 
 
 XVI. A SPURT AT DAWN A FAIR HAUL — CUTTING 
 
 AND BRANDING, . . . . .218 
 
 XVIL CAMBARANGA AGAIN — A WET ADVENTURE A 
 
 HOSPITABLE REFUGE, . . . . .231 
 
 XVIII. THE LAMBING — SWINDLING A NEW CHUM, , 247 
 
 XIX. THE LAND - FEVER — RALF COSGROVE RETURNS 
 
 TO THE COLONY, ..... 262 
 
 XX. AN IMPUDENT INTRUDER, .... 269
 
 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JOHN WEST SETS OUT ON HIS TRAVELS. 
 
 The good ship Marie Hamilton, an Aberdeen clipper, 
 700 tons burthen, bound for Sydney, is forging he? 
 way down the Channel with a fair wind in her top- 
 sails. The pilot has gone on shore, and with his depart- 
 ure the last adieu to England has been spoken. The 
 green slopes of Sussex are sinking over the quarter. 
 Beachy is already behind, and it is doubtful if the 
 passengers can catch the Needles before nightfall. 
 Most of them are too full of the parting to speak 
 much. Eemembrances of friends left behind crowd 
 their memories, and the receding shores give a point 
 to the poignancy of their parting regrets. To-morrow 
 it will be different, when there is only the wide sea 
 to greet the eye on coming on deck. Then men's 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 minds must turn perforce to the new land whither 
 Fortune has beckoned them with smiles that, in too 
 many cases, may turn out to have been delusive. Then 
 the life of the voyage will have begun : friendships 
 will be formed, the seeds of enmities sown, and the 
 social organisation of the floating microcosm will enter 
 upon its three months' course of development. 
 
 John West leans over the side ; and as the lights 
 fade in the loom of the darkening coast, his whole life 
 seems to come up before him and fade also into the 
 past. He thought of the fond mother who had been 
 called away too soon, before she could see her boy 
 ripening into manhood ; of the father whose naturally 
 feeble constitution had scarcely rallied from the shock 
 of his wife's death, but whose tender affection and care 
 had been exerted to their utmost, so that John might 
 never feel his loss. Though of a good family, the Eev. 
 Ambrose West had been only a poor curate in a manu- 
 facturing town, who had all his life to struggle with 
 poverty, and who had been indebted for the means of 
 giving his son a good education to the bounty of a 
 female relative, who had accidentally seen the hand- 
 some young lad, and had bequeathed his father, in 
 trust for him, a sum of £1500. How he might best 
 turn this legacy to his boy's account was a thought 
 ever present in Mr West's mind ; and his anxiety was 
 quickened all the more by a consciousness that his
 
 JOHN WEST SETS OUT ON HIS TEAVELS. 3 
 
 own end was rapidly approaching. That his son 
 should not have to live like himself — a penniless 
 scholar — he was determined : and his acquaintance 
 with an old schoolfellow who had made a fortune 
 in Australia led him to think of a career in that 
 country for John. This gentleman, Mr Cosgrove, who 
 at first had been inclined to throw cold water on the 
 clergyman's scheme, readily undertook to be John 
 West's patron when he heard that the lad would 
 have some small capital to invest in the colony. 
 
 "Australia is the finest field in the world for a 
 young man with a little money," Cosgrove had said 
 with enthusiasm. "You buy your sheep or cattle, 
 travel them on to a magnificent country, lease it from 
 the Government for a mere trifle, and in a few years 
 your sheep and cattle will have multiplied six or 
 eight times over, and you are a made man. Mere 
 accumulation will make you rich. You live the life 
 of a prince, — out on the green downs all day, riding 
 through the forests, and home at night to your com- 
 fortable bunk, turn in, and you sleep like a top." 
 
 This prospect did much to reassure Mr West of his 
 son's future, and he could look forward to the end, 
 which was now close at hand, with a feeling of more 
 cheerfulness. There were many points in Mr Cos- 
 grove's character that did not recommend themselves 
 to Mr West ; but he could make allowances for his
 
 4 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 neighbour's roughness and vulgarity, as the crust 
 under which lay a spirit of honesty and fair dealing. 
 When Mr West died, John was scarcely seventeen, 
 and he at once passed under the guardianship of Mr 
 Cosgrove. Neither John West nor his father had 
 much knowledge of Mr Cosgrove's colonial career, or 
 of the way in which he had accumulated his fortune. 
 But while John is thus leaning over the side of the 
 Marie Hamilton watching the night settle down upon 
 the bank of oloom which is all that is bv this time 
 left of the English coast, we shall give a few particu- 
 lars refi^ardinfTj the man who is now our adventurer's 
 guardian. 
 
 Mr Cosgrove had, as a boy, been a schoolfellow of 
 Mr West, and had gone out to California when the 
 discovery of gold first attracted a rush of emigration 
 in that direction. He had made money, but had been 
 victimised by a partner of superior cleverness if not 
 of more honesty than himself. Attracted by the glow- 
 inf:^ accounts of the wealth of New South Wales which 
 followed the famous discovery of gold by Hargraves 
 in that colony, Cosgrove was next drawn towards this 
 new El Dorado, taking with him about nine hundred 
 pounds — the proceeds of his Californian enterprise. 
 In the new colony his previous experience stood him 
 in good stead ; and after engaging in many operations 
 of land-jobbing, money-advancing, and other dealings
 
 JOHN WEST SETS OUT ON HIS TRAVELS. 5 
 
 of doubtful character, lie soon found himself fairly on 
 the road to wealth. He had married meanwhile ; but 
 his wife had died and left him with one son — a boy 
 called Ealf; and soon after, Cosgrove once more 
 looked around him for a mate by whose means he 
 might manage to raise himself another step in the 
 social ladder. 
 
 His choice fell upon a young widow lady of good 
 family though rather slender means. Her husband, a 
 young and promising Government official, had been 
 accidentally killed by a fall from his horse, leaving 
 his young wife and her little girl Euth, an infant in 
 arms, to make the most of the small sum he had been 
 able to save. She was received in the best society 
 which the capital of New South Wales afforded ; and 
 in marrying her, the wily squatter looked forward to 
 a more extended field of labour than he had as 3^et 
 been able to operate upon. His wealth, address, and 
 i-ather presentable appearance, procured for him a 
 favourable termination to a suit which, as far as the 
 poor lady knew, she had every reason to regard as a 
 desirable one, but which could only have an unfavour- 
 able ending. Not long after the marriage, he induced 
 through his wife, a cousin of hers, a young man of 
 considerable wealth, to emigrate to Australia. Cos- 
 grove had shortly before this sold his original property 
 and bought another, much larger, chiefly on bills, his
 
 6 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 money having been mysteriously disposed of, no one 
 knew how. His name could have procured advances 
 from the banks to an almost indefinite amount. He 
 had laid a trap for some one, and his wife's cousin 
 walked into it as soon as he was asked. 
 
 Greed of gold, and Cosgrove's specious arguments, 
 induced him to place a large amount of cash in the 
 farmer's hands as part payment of a half-share in 
 the station, which had never been paid for.; and the 
 utterly inexperienced one hugged himself in the ex- 
 pectation of untold wealth. To his intense astonish- 
 ment, he was awakened from this delusion about a 
 year afterwards by his partner, who coolly announced 
 himself a ruined man ; and finished up by informing 
 him that he could not meet his bills — that the mort- 
 satrees had foreclosed, and were now about to take 
 possession. The unsuspecting youth at first thought 
 a joke was intended, and some time elapsed before he 
 actually realised the ghastly truth. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that the station was not yours 
 when I bought half of it ? " 
 
 " Well, it was mine to a certain extent. I bought it 
 on advances from the banks, hoping to clear ofi' the 
 debt by degrees. Depreciation in wool, interest and 
 compound interest, have not only prevented that, but it 
 has put me some thousands in debt ; and as I told you, 
 the mortgagees are sending up to take possession."
 
 JOHN WEST SETS OUT ON HIS TRAVELS. 7 
 
 " But they shan't get possession," returned the young 
 man, alarmed and growing angry ; " I own an interest 
 in the property. I won't be swindled out of my 
 money. Let them pay that back to me, and I'll go. 
 I hold your bond of partnership. I dare them to set 
 foot on the place while I am here." 
 
 " Listen," said the other ; " you had better destroy 
 that little paper." 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the kind. I shall publish 
 it in every newspaper. Though you have married 
 my cousin, I'll proclaim your treachery everywhere. 
 I'll " 
 
 "Hold on," rejoined his quondam partner, serenely 
 surveying his victim ; " I have no money — overdrawn 
 my account long ago — every one knows that. I owe 
 about £10,000. The mortgagees are willing to give 
 me a clearance when I give up the station. Should 
 it come to their ears that you are my self-acknowledged 
 partner, you will find yourself compelled to pay the 
 remaining money you possess into their hands to 
 liquidate my debts. Now hold your tongue, and burn 
 your bond — first loss is best loss." 
 
 The force of this argument struck the dismayed 
 young man so strongly, that, feeling himself quite 
 helpless, though raging inwardly, he submitted to 
 his fate. 
 
 Cosgrove retired for some time into private life.
 
 8 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAJsD. 
 
 but before long emerged again, brighter and evi- 
 dently richer, as the possessor of a station in the 
 more northern portion of New South Wales, which 
 subsequently came to be known as the colony of 
 Queensland. 
 
 In his new property he may be supposed to have 
 succeeded; for on his return to England, after the 
 death of his second wife, whose gentle heart had 
 never been able to get the better of her husband's 
 unscrupulousness, he was apparently a wealthy and 
 prosperous gentleman. In Mr Cosgrove's house John 
 had spent a few weeks after his father's death, and 
 had learned to like Euth — who had all the sweet- 
 ness and affection of her mother's character — and to 
 thoroughly detest Ealf, who, to a naturally vicious 
 disposition, developed among the rough characters 
 of a bush-station, had added still more objectionable 
 qualities, caught up from the society of stable-helpers 
 and betting-men, since his arrival in England. John 
 West's intercourse with the young Australian had been 
 far from pleasant, and he had had on one occasion 
 to enforce good manners upon him by a sound drub- 
 bing. But Mr Cosgrove was anxious that he should 
 start ; and the days of mourning were scarcely accom- 
 plished when John found that his passage had been 
 taken on a Sydney ship ; and he himself was hurried 
 off, in company with his dog Spot — the gift of a lad
 
 JOHN WEST SETS OUT ON HIS TRAVELS. 9 
 
 who was Eutli's groom, and whom John had protected 
 at his own personal peril from the tyranny of her 
 brother. He was furnished with a letter to Mr Cos- 
 grove's superintendent at Ipswich, in Queensland, and 
 with a draft, payable to himself, on Messrs Bond and 
 Foreclose, Mr Cosgrove's agents in the capital of New 
 South Wales. As for his money, Mr Cosgrove had 
 undertaken to invest the sum in the way most profit- 
 able for giving him a start when he had learned his 
 duties. 
 
 And so John looked over the side of the Marie 
 Hamilton, and thought of his dead father and of 
 Euth, to whom he felt all the fervour of a boyish 
 attachment, and of Cosgrove and Ealf, of the old 
 life that he was leaving, and of the wonders of tfhe 
 new world that was before him, until the light was 
 swung from the mast, and the watch was set, and 
 passengers were beginning to go below and make for 
 their berths. The wide ocean was around, night was 
 above, and Old England was now far away on the lee.
 
 10 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 ON BOARD THE MARIE HAMILTON. 
 
 The chief mate of the Marie Hamilton was a hearty, 
 coarse, pushing man, and a good sailor. He soon put 
 John in the way of getting things in order, and man- 
 aged, as there were not many passengers, to let him 
 have a cahin to himself ; and he also extended his pro- 
 tection to Spot, for which John was very grateful. 
 
 How new were these experiences ! how many 
 things were to be learnt ! Everything he saw tilled 
 him with surprise ; and next morning John, who had 
 never lived on the sea-coast, was aghast as he watched 
 the active sailors swarm up aloft and shake out the 
 wliite sails. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and 
 poor John experienced all the customary sensations. 
 
 He lay aft, dreadfully sick, and could not be pre- 
 vailed upon to move. The sailors, who every now 
 and then came aft in a party to haul on the braces 
 as the ship was put about, walked over him, but he 
 did not mind it. One of them drew him a little on
 
 ON BOAED THE MARIE HAMILTON. 11 
 
 one side, but it was like moving a corpse — in fact, 
 John would not have minded being a corpse just 
 at that moment. The steward had been up several 
 times with offers of food, which his soul abhorred, 
 and now brought round a blanket with which he 
 covered the wretched youth. The warmth did John 
 good, and towards midnight he managed to crawl 
 down and get into his bunk. In a few days, how- 
 ever, these feelings were a thing of the past, and 
 the warm, sunny skies began to exercise their genial 
 influence on our young traveller. How delicious to 
 move about in the month of January with summer 
 clothing; to bask in the warm rays of the sun, 
 watching the snowy-winged sea-birds poising them- 
 selves on the yards ! Now they dash like a streak 
 of lightning round the quarter of the vessel, circling 
 gracefully up into the air again ; and now they 
 dropped on the water, falling gradually behind, until 
 one could scarcely note the tiny white speck on the 
 boundless blue of the rising wave. How charming 
 to watch the minute "Portugee men-o'-war," each 
 little bark cruising on its own account, and com- 
 missioned ill the Admiralty Court of Nature, in the 
 name of Nature's God ! How delightful at night to 
 lean on the quarter-rail and look over into the wild, 
 whirling eddies of dark, deep water, sparkling with 
 phosphorescent fire; or to note the ship's bow as it
 
 12 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 ploughed its way through the solemn main, fur- 
 rowing its track in living fire 1 How glorious to 
 sit and watch the golden sunset, the sky at first 
 fretted with a network of gorgeously tinted cumuli, 
 then dissolving into less bright but more delicate 
 and not less beautiful shades of colour, till at last 
 the great light sinks — a living, burning, glowing 
 sphere — behind the vast waste of waters, to give 
 place to the "gentle Lady Moon," which, rising ''full- 
 orbed in silvery majesty," casts her fairy -like en- 
 chanted light in a bright chain athwart the dark- 
 ened rippling sea, until, rising on high, she watches 
 with " her silent eye " the universe below, causing 
 the masts and cordage to stand out in alternate light 
 and shadow ! What a glamour steals over the heart 
 of man at such a time ! what a desire for solitude, 
 for communion with one's own heart — the hour of 
 faith, of prayer, of love ! Who of those that have 
 gone down to the sea in great ships have not felt 
 the sad, inexplicable yearning of the heart for the 
 higher, purer life, when watching the star - sown 
 heavens, or contrasting the insignificance of them- 
 selves and their bark and the huge immensity of 
 space around them ? 
 
 " The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." 
 But " the heavens declare His handiwork." 
 
 John West felt all this. He thought he could never
 
 ON BOARD THE MARIE HAMILTON. 13 
 
 tire of the voyage ; but after a time, the continual 
 sameness and monotony became irksome. 
 
 There were a few other passengers, but none \vith 
 whom he cared to become intimate. One was a 
 young man of the name of Boyle, on his way out, like 
 himself, to learn sheep-farming in Australia. Boyle 
 had rather exalted notions of his destiny, for he fre- 
 quently informed any who would listen to him that 
 he was going to manage a large station belonging to 
 his uncle. The young man had a natural taste for 
 low company, and his greatest pleasure lay in playing 
 cards with the sailors in the forecastle. 
 
 There was also a travelling bagman for some London 
 firm on board — a Jew named Cohen. 
 
 It so happened that Boyle had in some manner 
 made himself obnoxious to the " son of Moses ; " and 
 one night, when he was returning from the forecastle, 
 a bucket of bilge-water, emptied on him by an unseen 
 hand in a lofty position, drenched him to the skin. 
 Boyle vowed vengeance. The perpetrator of the trick 
 was not to be discovered, but in his own mind he was 
 convinced that to Cohen the debt was due. This 
 little affair happened when the Marie Hamilton was 
 about crossing the line; and the weather being very 
 hot, the passengers were accustomed to go forward be- 
 fore sunrise in order to bathe, the water being played 
 upon them through the hose of the fire-engine.
 
 14 BUSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 A few mornings after Boyle's little adventure, the 
 passengers went as usual for their early refresher; and 
 West, who was first readv, was about to advance, when 
 a meaning look and wink from the man who held the 
 hose made him draw back. He noticed that this morn- 
 ing the brass nozzle was screwed on to the canvas-pipe, 
 and that two men were working the pump instead of 
 one, as was customary. Cohen now stepped forward 
 — he was a big, stout, fat man — completely undressed. 
 The two sailors at the engine set to work with all 
 their might, the third directed the nozzle, and in an in- 
 stant the unfortunate bagman was covered from head 
 to foot with tar. In vain did he turn his back, he 
 only received on it the remainder of the dose which 
 had been ingeniously concealed in the nozzle. Conster- 
 nation was depicted on the faces of some, while others 
 greeted the unhappy victim with shouts of laughter. 
 No one enjoyed the affair more than his enemy Boyle. 
 
 But he laughed too loud. Cohen's eye settled on 
 him. Suspicion flashed across his mind like light- 
 ning, and rushing at the unsuspecting and wholly 
 naked youth, he seized him in his arms, and rubbed 
 himself all over him, causing tlie bystanders to shriek 
 with hj^sterical laughter. The infuriated young man 
 struck out right and leit, a successful blow lighting 
 on and " bunging up " the eye of his antagonist, 
 who retaliated with great spirit, until the combatants
 
 ON BOARD THE MARIE HAMILTON. 15 
 
 resembled a pair of North American Indians. Just 
 then the chief ofi&cer came up. His appearance was 
 a signal for the sailors, who were looking on with 
 pretended amazement depicted on their faces, to 
 disperse. 
 
 A few words in his rongh, imperious tone of voice 
 sufficed to part the coloured gentlemen, who now be- 
 came alive to the intense absurdity of their position. 
 Boyle made his way in safety to the cook's galley, 
 where, with the assistance of some of the men, he got 
 slushed down and cleansed. 
 
 Cohen, however, was not so fortunate. His cabin 
 was one of the stern state-rooms, and to reach it he 
 had to pass through the whole length of the saloon. 
 
 It was obviously impossible to put on clothes, aad 
 nothing remained for it but to clear the coast and to 
 make a desperate rush. So turning to John, he begged 
 him to act the part of advanced-guard and reconnoitre 
 ahead. John returned with the welcome news that no 
 one was to be seen, whereupon Cohen made a frantic 
 effort ; but, alas ! " the best-laid schemes of mice and 
 men," as Burns says, "gang aft a-glee." He had 
 barely got half-way down the companion when he was 
 met by a middle-aged married lady from Ireland, of 
 the name of Sullivan — who was returning with her 
 husband to the colonies — and a Miss MacFagg, a sen- 
 timental, long-bodied Scotch maiden of forty, with a
 
 16 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 partly lackadaisical, partly sanctimonious, expression 
 of visage, and a long thin head, sparsely covered with 
 a crop of wiry sandy hair, who was on her way out to 
 a relative in Sydney. 
 
 They had emerged from their cabins to enjoy the 
 morning air just as West left the saloon, and in con- 
 sequence a meeting on the companion was the result. 
 Owing to the impetus, caused by the rate at which 
 he was travelling, Cohen hurriedly swept past Mrs 
 Sullivan, liberally besmearing her hands — which she 
 had stretched out in front of her to protect herself — 
 with the sticky pigment which covered his own skin, 
 and almost rushed into the arms of Miss MacFafj^, 
 who was a step or two lower down, and who saluted 
 him with a piercing shriek. In vain he turned to fly ; 
 his self-possession — bewildered as he was by the 
 shouts of Mrs Sullivan, who kept bawling at the top 
 of her voice, " Murder ! savages ! the bloody, dhirty 
 villyian, he's ruinated my dhresh intirely ! " and hew- 
 ing at him with her sun -shade, and the shrieks of 
 Miss MacFagg, who on her knees entreated him to 
 spare her innocence and her scalp — completely de- 
 serted him. In vain, covering his face with his hands, 
 he endeavoured to pass on either side of his strong- 
 minded Irish adversary. She set to him with the pre- 
 cision of a dancing-mistress, until a heavy and well- 
 directed blow from the sun -shade sent him rolhn 
 
 CT
 
 ON BOAED THE MARIE HAMILTON. 17 
 
 down the cuddy -stairs into the saloon, bringing the 
 terrified Miss MacFagg along with him. 
 
 The whole scene had not occupied a minute, and 
 John was the only bystander who had witnessed it. 
 The other passengers and stewards, who had hurried 
 to the spot on hearing the noise, had arrived only in 
 time to see the half-maddened Jew disappear in his 
 cabin, and they now surrounded West in order to get 
 an explanation, and the saloon resounded with up- 
 roarious merriment as Cohen's awkward situation be- 
 came known. Miss MacFagg retired to her cabin, from 
 w^iich she did not emerge until the afternoon of next 
 day ; but the dauntless Mrs Sullivan appeared at 
 breakfast, at which meal she narrated the adventure 
 to the much-amused skipper, who absolutely shrieked* 
 as she finished by saying, " The dhirty blackgyard ! I 
 dhrew out and I hit him acrass the shouldthers and 
 knocked him dhown." 
 
 This and one or two other little occurrences served 
 to break the tediousness of the trip, which was be- 
 ginning to tell upon all, especially the more expe- 
 rienced travellers ; and the near approach to Aus- 
 tralian shores was hailed with delight, and by none 
 more than John. Why was he glad? He had no 
 friends awaiting him. He did not know, he never 
 even asked himself the question; but the feeling of 
 delight was almost ecstatic as the glittering coast 
 
 VOL. L B
 
 18 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 shone under their lee ; and universal enthusiasm ex- 
 isted as the Marie Hamilton ran close in, affording 
 her passengers and crew a view of the beautiful pano- 
 rama of wooded hills and blue mountain-peaks, and 
 grassy slopes running down to the open sandy beaches 
 or rock-bound shores of the sea. " That's ' Kiama,' " 
 said the skipper to John. John did not know what 
 " Kiama " was — he had never heard the name before. 
 He stood leaning on the rail, watching the shore, and 
 lost in thought. In imagination he peopled those 
 green hills with a savage, bloodthirsty race, whose 
 ancestors had gone on the war-path, and followed the 
 chase over those silent valleys and rugged mountains 
 for hundreds, ay, perhaps thousands, of years. He 
 thought how, when all Christendom was convulsed 
 with strife and war, the inhabitants of these dark, roll- 
 ing forests had lived on calml}^, pursuing their own 
 primitive mode of life. What they were at the time 
 of the advent of our Saviour, that they were still. 
 It had wrought no change for them. Their life was 
 what it had been, it might be, in Moses' time, or 
 still further back in the obscurer ages of the world's 
 history. It seemed almost like paying a visit to one 
 of the planets, approaching a country whose people 
 were utterly ignorant of the commonest European 
 information. 
 
 As the day wore on and the glorious sunshine came
 
 ON BOARD THE MAEIE HAMILTON. 19 
 
 to an end, bets were freely offered and taken as to the 
 hour of arrival at Sydney Heads. 
 
 The moon was at the full, and the Marie Hamilton 
 sailed merrily onward, — ^just as if the " Sydney girls " 
 !had hold of the tow-rope, as the boatswain cheerily 
 Iremarked. About ten o'clock in the evening they 
 passed Botany Bay, and soon the perpendicular cliffs 
 which line the shore between it and the entrance to 
 the Cove towered above them in the clear moonlight — 
 the abrupt, rugged harshness of the rocky wall seem- 
 ing more awful as each lofty headland was thrown 
 forward into bold relief by the dark-shadowed clefts 
 and chasms behind. They passed the dreadful Gap, 
 the scene of a shipwreck, the harrowing details of 
 which will never be forgotten by the inhabitants of 
 Syndey ; and shortly afterwards the pilot came on 
 board, and the Marie Hamilton entered the Heads and 
 cast anchor for the night. 
 
 But whose pen can describe the fairy-like beauty of 
 the scene next morning, when the steam-tug towed 
 their floating home up the glorious harbour to Sydney, 
 the Queen of the Southern Seas ? 
 
 The clearness of the atmosphere, and the deep blue 
 of the sky, in which blazed a semi-tropical sun ; the 
 smooth water ; the charming little coves and sheltered 
 bays ; the w^ooded shores ; the splendid villas crowning 
 the rising slopes and embosomed in luxuriant verdure ;
 
 20 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 the trim little yachts ; and the noble aspect of the city 
 from the harbour, which was crowded with steamers 
 and ships, a perfect forest of masts rising close to the 
 shore, — enchanted John beyond measure. 
 
 Garden Island and Pinchgut are passed, and the 
 towers of Government House rise imposingly over the 
 waters of Farm Cove, where two or three men-of-war 
 lie serenely at anchor, their union-jacks hanging lazily 
 from the sterns of the vessels ; while the beautiful 
 Botanic Gardens lend a tropical character to the whole 
 which absolutely transports the beholder. No wonder 
 the Sydney people are proud of their City by the Sea, 
 for there are few spots more lovely. 
 
 John soon got his things on shore ; and having fixed 
 on lodgings, he went for a stroll. He found out Mr 
 Cosgrove's agents, Messrs Bond and Foreclose, who 
 honoured his draft, treating him, however, with a 
 business-like off- handedness which rather took him 
 aback ; for he had expected, from the familiar way in 
 which Mr Cosgrove spoke of them, that a friend of his 
 would be a person of some consideration with them. 
 A walk about town filled him with surprise. The 
 puggaree -encircled hats and helmets were to him a 
 novel sight. The Chinese stores in the lower part of 
 George Street, and the diggers (in coloured flannel 
 shirts and long boots), some of whom he saw loitering 
 about the booking-office of a coaching firm, were also
 
 ON BOARD THE MARIE HAMILTON. 21 
 
 new and strange ; and he listened in puzzled wonder 
 to the quick sharp cries of the omnibus cads as they 
 rapidly uttered a string of foreign-sounding native 
 names. 
 
 The long wooden drinking-troughs for horses outside 
 the doors of many of the suburban inns, gave an air 
 of rustic simplicity to the long one-storeyed build- 
 ings, with which the presence in town of innumerable 
 horsemen from the neighbouring country was quite 
 in keeping. 
 
 At the same time, John was much impressed with 
 the architectural beauty of some of the newer streets 
 and public edifices, and with the evidences of wealth 
 and prosperity which greeted him everywhere. 
 
 He found his way to the office of the Australiaft 
 Steam Navigation Company, and having taken his 
 passage for Brisbane, Moreton Bay, he returned to his 
 lodgings. On the evening of the next day he went on 
 board the s.s. Telegraph, and soon afterwards the 
 countless lights of Sydney twinkled in the gloom 
 behind them and were lost to view. 
 
 Here he met a different class of people from any 
 he had hitherto come in contact with, and he did not 
 at first exactly know what to make of them. There 
 were a number of stout, bearded, and very much 
 bronzed men, who looked like gentlemen : and yet 
 there was an off- handedness and air of recklessness
 
 22 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 about some of them which he had never perceived in 
 those with whom he had associated at home ; and he 
 noticed that the hands of nearly all, although in some 
 instances decorated with rings, were rough and coarse. 
 They appeared to have much to say ; and from the 
 familiarity with which they treated one another, John 
 at first inclined to think that they must be members 
 of what he had heard termed the swell-mob. Occa- 
 sionally a few words of their conversation came to his 
 ears : and the expressions " new country," " account 
 sales," " horses and cattle," " pound a-head all round," 
 " up at my place," &c., reminded him of Mr Cosgrove's 
 conversation, and he made up his mind that these 
 must be Queensland squatters returning after a trip 
 to Sydney. When John in the course of time came 
 to know this class better, he found that among them 
 were to be met numbers of men of first-rate education, 
 gentlemanly manners, and high principles, as well also 
 as those of a rougher stamp ; but nearly all were , 
 shrewd, practical men, devoted to their independent 
 bush-life, and bearing about with them a frankness 
 wliich seemed born of the rough-and-ready stirring 
 life they led. There were also a few younger men of 
 the same stamp, some of them looking rather unwell, 
 as if recovering from the effects of Sydney dissipation. 
 John's fellow - passenger Boyle was also among the 
 number. He had managed to introduce himself, or
 
 ON BOARD THE MAEIE HAMILTON. 23 
 
 had been introduced, to a circle of ladies, and was 
 evidently affording them amusement, as could be seen 
 by the endeavours which some of the younger ones 
 made to draw him out, and the merriment which fol- 
 lowed each sally. There were also some who looked 
 like city business men, and one or two travelling bag- 
 men. The passengers seemed to agree very well, and 
 there did not appear to be any of the stiffness which 
 characterises English travelling at home. The captain, 
 a polite, highly educated seaman, made himself agree- 
 able to all, and was especially attentive to the ladies 
 and children. John mentioned Mr Cosgrove's name ; 
 and the captain, who knew everybody, was quite inter- 
 ested, and inquired in the most particular way after 
 Euth, who was, he said, a charming child, and a great 
 friend of his. The table was well supplied, and the 
 scent of pine -apples seemed to pervade the saloon : 
 the whole surroundings called to John's mind descrip- 
 tions he had read of steamer-travelling in the Southern 
 States of America. Two days' rapid steaming along 
 the coast brought them in sight of Stradbroke Island ; 
 and shortly afterwards, passing several islands, they 
 entered the mouth of the Brisbane river. The shores 
 were low and uninteresting at first, and devoid of all 
 life, except where, here and there, a group of native 
 companions stalked solemnly or played fantastically 
 on the mud among the mangroves ; but as the steamer
 
 24 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 tore the placid waters, and forced her course onward, 
 the banks gradually rose, and became densely covered 
 with vegetation of a tropical character. The river 
 bent and twisted in many a romantic winding ; and 
 as each corner was turned, a still more beautiful scene 
 than the last lay before the travellers. The long 
 reaches of deep, calm water, fringed with dense groves 
 of plantains and bananas or tall graceful bamboos, 
 delighted John's gaze. 
 
 Here and there were passed beautiful verandaed 
 cottages covered with creepers,- situated in the midst 
 of luxuriant gardens and orange -groves, from which 
 little jetties or boat -stairs led down to the water's 
 edge. Numerous buildings announced the approach 
 to the city, as it is called, of Brisbane. The steamer 
 was soon made fast alongside the jetty, and it being 
 a moist wet day, there were few people to witness its 
 arrival. 
 
 John got his things ashore, and set off to find 
 accommodation. Both the principal hotels were full, 
 and he turned away in search of a third, where he was 
 fortunate enough to secure a small room. 
 
 It rained all day, and when towards evening it 
 ceased for a time, and our " new chum " went out to 
 explore, he was astonished to find that the city was 
 almost entirely built of wood, and that it was scarcely 
 bigger than many villages at home. Since then a
 
 ON BOARD THE MARIE HAMILTON. 25 
 
 great change for the better has taken place in the 
 capital of Queensland, both in size and architecture. 
 He returned to an early supper and bed, but, alas ! 
 not to sleep. He suffered the tortures of the Inquis- 
 ition from a numerous and active body of mosquitoes, 
 who, having discovered the treat awaiting them in 
 the person of a new arrival, obstinately defied all his 
 efforts to dislodge them from the positions they had 
 taken up within the curtains, and prosecuted their 
 investigations with the most pertinacious perseverance, 
 discovering the tenderest portions of his body with a 
 scientific skill which said much for their vast experi- 
 ence and interest in the matter on hand. 
 
 Towards morning he fell into a feverish sleep, on 
 awaking from which he resolved that from Brisbane 
 he should depart that very day : so having finished 
 breakfast, he had his things put on board the river- 
 steamer Ipswich, bound for Ipswich, an inland town 
 about thirty miles distant from Brisbane, and the 
 place where he expected to meet the horses which 
 were to convey him to Mr Cosgrove's station, Cam- 
 baranga.
 
 26 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 IPSWICH IN THE OLD DAYS— A '' JACKAROO " ON 
 
 HORSEBACK. 
 
 The river-steamer Ipswich was not long in convey- 
 ing our "new chum," like hundreds of others pre- 
 viously, and thousands subsequently, to his place of 
 destination. The river- scenery appeared even more 
 beautiful than on the preceding day, for on three 
 parts of the days of the year in Queensland the sun 
 shines brilliantly. 
 
 He found, on inquiry, that Mr Cosgrove's agent 
 knew nothing about him or horses ; so taking up his 
 quarters at one of the hotels, he despatched a letter 
 to Mr Cosgrove's manager, acquainting him with his 
 arrival, and then proceeded to survey the town. This 
 he accomplished in a very short time ; but, neverthe- 
 less, much was occurring around of a novel and in- 
 teresting character. 
 
 Numbers of bullock-waggons, each drawn by ten or 
 twelve great, bony -looking, large-horned oxen, lined
 
 IPSWICH IN THE OLD DA^S. 27 
 
 the streets, their drivers sunburnt, healthy - looking 
 men, in home - made flannel shirts and moleskin 
 trousers, and cabbage - tree hats, mostly engaged 
 with others similarly attired in either unloading 
 bales of wool or loading supplies at the various 
 stores, the occupation being interrupted every now 
 and then by what John soon learned was the great 
 national pastime of Queensland — viz., having a drink 
 all round. 
 
 Laden teams, groaning and creaking, slowly made 
 their way into or out of the busy little town, 
 among clouds of dust, with much cracking of whips 
 and shouting of bullocks' names by the drivers, 
 who walked beside their teams, carrying over their 
 shoulders a long -handled whip with thong of raw 
 salted hide, called in the colony " greenhide." 
 
 In many instances, when two or three teams tra- 
 velled together, one or more were driven by blackboys 
 — that is to say, aboriginal natives — the term being 
 invariably employed by colonists towards the blacks 
 in their service, no matter what age they may be. 
 These were attired similarly to their white companions, 
 in shirt and trousers — but the shirts were, as a rule, 
 of a more gaudy pattern ; and a bright-coloured hand- 
 kerchief as often as not encircled their waists or was 
 bound round their heads. 
 
 They seemed very proficient in the vocabulary neoes-
 
 28 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 sary to the professed bullock- driver, and thorough 
 masters of the formidable cowhide, and, on the whole, 
 were happy, merry fellows, with dark shiny com- 
 plexions, bright eyes, and strong white teeth. As a 
 rule, they had beautiful curly hair, and some of the 
 more civilised among them seemed to bestow great 
 care upon their personal appearance. Horses of all 
 kinds, and ridden by men, women, and boys, passed 
 continually up and down the streets, or stood tied up 
 at the doors of stores and private dwellings. Every 
 one seemed to ride who had any business to do. Each 
 house had its stock -yard, or enclosure of posts and rails, 
 for the purpose of holding horses and cattle when 
 driven in from the surrounding bush, where they pas- 
 tured. Men kept arriving from the country or depart- 
 ing thither chiefly on horseback. To a practised eye 
 it was an easy matter to determine the calling or pro- 
 fession of each from his appearance. The old shep- 
 herd generally came slowly along, mounted on some 
 long- tailed, quiet mare, or good-looking but aged and 
 broken-down hack, sitting on a stained, patched, old 
 saddle — a huge bundle of clothes, wrapped in a well- 
 worn blue blanket, strapped in front of him; a dog- 
 chain or two fastened on one side of his saddle, and a 
 quart-pot and pint rattling together on the other. An 
 old, worn, blue-serge shirt on his back, a pair of dirty 
 white moleskin trousers covering his nether man, and
 
 IPSWICH IN THE OLD DAYS. 29 
 
 a battered old felt hat on his head, completed his 
 attire ; while his pouch containing his knife, matches, 
 and tobacco, together with his last agreement of ser- 
 vice, a few old receipts for horses bought, and, in all 
 probability, a considerable cheque — a sensible collie- 
 dog or two generally bringing up the rear. 
 
 The splitter and fencer or the shearer presented a 
 much smarter appearance. Strong, muscular, bearded, 
 in his prime, clad neatly and comfortably, sometimes 
 with a spare horse carrying his baggage, he came into 
 town hearty and jolly, to leave it, alas ! too often, with 
 an emptier pocket, and a bloodshot eye and shaking 
 hand. 
 
 The neat, smart -looking, well -mounted stockman 
 passed quickly along, sitting his horse with an ea'sy 
 grace, the result of many a long overland journey or 
 sharp mountain gallop. Now and again a squatter, 
 mounted on a well-bred, active hack, moved by, a 
 spare horse or two being driven by his attendant black- 
 boy. The public-houses presented a very busy sight ; 
 and judging by the bars, it seemed that when men 
 were not eating, sleeping, or working, they were drink- 
 ing grog and boasting (or blowing, in colonial parlance) 
 of some feat which they had performed, or of the par- 
 ticular merits of some horse, bullock, dog, or man. As 
 a rule, the conversation was very horsey or bullocky. 
 The bar parlours seemed to be quite as full as the tap-
 
 30 BUSII-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 rooms ; and squatters, merchants, and professional men 
 transacted their business, or amused themselves, very 
 much in the same manner as their inferiors. 
 
 'No bargain could be completed without a "wet" 
 over it, and no friendship formed or enmity forgotten 
 without recourse to the bottle. Many of the shepherds 
 and other bushmen, indeed, considered it the correct 
 thing to put their year's wages into the hands of the 
 publican whose house they stayed at, with the request 
 to inform them when the money was spent — until 
 which time they themselves drank, and treated every- 
 body else who would drink with them. Indeed they 
 not unfrequently annoyed those whom they might 
 chance to fall in with by insisting on standing treat 
 — a refusal being very often answered by a show of 
 
 anger and an indignant '' Oh, you're too proud 
 
 to drink wdth a poor man ! " Quarrelling, singing, 
 riding furiously, a night spent in the lock-up, a re- 
 covery of misery, perhaps a touch of delirium tremens, 
 — in this way many of these men spent their short 
 holiday in town, and the money they had laboured so 
 hard for. 
 
 John soon got tired of these scenes, and took 
 his way back to his inn. On the road he passed 
 numerous parties of aboriginals — the men in tattered 
 shirts and trousers, mostly without hats, their heads 
 covered with a huge mass of tangled ringlets, — for the
 
 IPSWICH IN THE OLD DAYS. 31 
 
 black fellow who lives in the bush bestows but small 
 attention on his " cobra," as the head is usually called 
 in the pigeon-English which they employ. The women 
 sometimes wore merely a shirt ; and a favourite article 
 of apparel was the skirt of a white woman's dress, the 
 band fastened over one shoulder and under the other 
 arm, the opposite arm passing through the slit. Some- 
 times they used cloaks made of opossum -skin, and 
 many carried children on their backs. 
 
 John afterwards learnt that it was compulsory for 
 them to appear clothed to a certain extent in town, their 
 own natural inclination being the other way. They 
 seemed to loiter about without any particular object. 
 Occasionally one of the men might be seen chopping 
 wood or fetching water, and some of the gins^ as the 
 women are called, employed in assisting at housework. 
 Many begged, on the smallest opportunity, for toom- 
 hacco (tobacco) or " white money ; " others were seated 
 or stretched lazily along the shady side of some build- 
 ing, incessantly singing a monotonous ditty, or enjoying 
 a snooze. On the whole, they seemed a merry, happy, 
 careless, tolerably well-fed, dirty, greasy set of black 
 people, with a peculiar smoky, overpowering smell 
 about them. 
 
 These were part of the Ipswich tribe, and knocked 
 out a precarious living by hunting in the bush and 
 begging in the town.
 
 32 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 The enforced stay at Ipswich wearied our friend 
 exceedingly ; he found himself the only aimless per- 
 son in the place. All day long there were arrivals 
 and departures on horseback. Bullock -drays came 
 and went ; supplies were landed from the steamers, 
 and wool was despatched. 
 
 Among others, John's shipmate Boyle made a start 
 up-country, his departure giving rise to an episode of 
 considerable interest. He had been staying in Bris- 
 bane for a day or two, and had there purchased a hand- 
 some, though somewhat shy, black mare to carry him 
 to his destination. This animal he had caused to be 
 caparisoned in front of his hotel with the parapher- 
 nalia which he had brought out with him from home, 
 thinking that in a colony so remote all saddlery was 
 difficult to procure. His steed looked brilliant, in all 
 the shining glory of new furniture, a glistening new 
 bit in her mouth, and a martingale half-a-dozen sizes 
 too big round her neck ; while a huge-sized valise, 
 sufficient for a family, crossed the pommel of his 
 saddle, and occupied almost the entire seat. A stiff, 
 ill-made English stock-whip hung on one side, and 
 an apparatus containing a multitudinous assortment 
 of knives, forks, spoons, dishes, tumblers, &c., as sup- 
 posed in England to be necessary for people who eat 
 in the open air, hung on the other. Everything about 
 the whole bespoke "new chum," and accordingly a
 
 A "jackaroo" on horseback. 33 
 
 crowd of amused bush and town people gathered round 
 to see the mount made and the start efiPected. 
 
 Presently the new arrival issued from the veranda, 
 dressed, according to his own ideas, as much like a 
 bushman as possible, in a thick coat and waistcoat, 
 heavy enough for an English winter, and a pair of 
 thick, baggy cord- breeches, with long, heavy-soled 
 Napoleon boots, garnished with formidable long-necked 
 spurs. A brand-new cabbage -tree hat protected his 
 head ; his waist was confined by a broad leathern belt, 
 supporting on one side a revolver, and on the other a 
 large butcher's knife. 
 
 It was a matter of no little difficulty for him to 
 mount his steed, partly from his cumbrous attire and 
 the huge " swag " which lay across the seat, as well as 
 from the unpleasant way in which the newly panelled 
 saddle kept slipping over the fat round back of his 
 mare whenever his weight bore on the stirrup. In 
 time, by dint of one man holding to the opposite stir- 
 rup, another keeping back the swag, a third holding 
 the bridle, and a fourth pushing him behind, Mr Boyle 
 gained a romantic and picturesque perch, much to his 
 own satisfaction, amidst shouts of " Stick to her, squat- 
 ter ! " from the deeply interested spectators, whose 
 amusement was, however, soon to be changed into 
 consternation; for when they had followed the cava- 
 lier a short distance to an open space, it entered into 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 his head to see how his mare stood fire in case he 
 might be placed in some of the perils which he fancied 
 beset his journey. Accordingly, he drew his trusty 
 and much -valued "double action" out of its bright 
 new pouch. It had been loaded with much attention 
 that morning ; and aiming at a stump, he fired. He 
 had no time to witness the effect of his shot. With a 
 bound his charger flew round, and getting amongst 
 the small crowd of onlookers, she put down her head, 
 and executed in a circle a series of remarkably active 
 buck-jumps. Her rider could not fall off. He"" sat 
 there, trussed by the swag in front of him, desperation 
 in his face, his long spurs jammed well into the sides 
 of the mare, his hand mechanically holding the pistol, 
 and with each succeeding jump involuntarily pulling 
 the trigger, causing the bullets to fly in every direc- 
 tion. There was no more laughter from the spectators. 
 With one impulse they threw themselves on the ground, 
 preferring the chance of being trampled on by the 
 horse to being subjected to the erratic fire of the eques- 
 trian acrobat. On the chambers being all discharged, 
 the mare ceased bucking, and no one was more aston- 
 ished than the rider to find himself still in his saddle. 
 And he departed, much to the relief of those who had 
 thus stood, or lain down to, powder for the first time.
 
 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A START UP-COUNTRY. 
 
 An evening or two after Boyle's departure John was 
 sitting in the veranda, when a nondescript-looking 
 vehicle, drawn by two horses tandem-fashion, and con- 
 taining a very stout woman and a stockman-looking 
 man, drove up. John had the pleasure of meeting the 
 stout woman at dinner, and she turned out to be the 
 proprietress of a hotel in the neighbourhood of Mr 
 Cosgrove's station. When she heard John was going 
 there, but detained from want of horses, she kindly 
 informed him that he might ride one of her two back, 
 as she intended remaining some time in town, and was 
 about sending back horses and man. 
 
 Our hero gladly accepted the offer ; and next morn- 
 ing, after many preparations, in close imitation of his 
 friend Boyle, he made ready to start. His guide was 
 the ostler of the hotel, who, being from home, was con- 
 sequently on the spree. He called on John to make 
 haste, sprang on his own horse, and in a few minutes
 
 36 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 both were galloping out of the town. The ostler pro- 
 ceeded in the most correct bush style. Every now and 
 then uttering a wild cry and dashing his spurs into 
 his nag's sides, he would fly along at his topmost speed, 
 only to pull up again at the nearest public-house, to 
 the veranda of which his horse's bridle was hung until 
 he had imbibed a nobbier or two. John's horse seemed 
 rather astonished not to find his rider executing simi- 
 lar war-cries, but he neverthelesss tore after his com- 
 panion with a desperate energy, which showed the in- 
 terest he took in the proceeding, and pulled up at the 
 doors of the bush inns with a suddenness which, but 
 for the swag in front of him, would have sent poor 
 John, who was rather aghast at this desperate mode of 
 travelling, sprawling. 
 
 They reached their destination towards evening — a 
 pretty, quiet little inn, the stout motherly landlady of 
 which conducted our friend to a neat small parlour, 
 and gave him a snug supper, — after which he betook 
 himself to bed, feeling, after his twenty-five-mile ride, 
 as if every bone in his body was broken. 
 
 Next day the travellers proceeded in a much more 
 orderly manner ; and about mid-day a man was de- 
 scried coming towards them, leading a horse. This 
 proved to be one of Mr Cosgrove's men with horses for 
 the young traveller. 
 
 John enjoyed this journey through wild woods be-
 
 A START UP-COUNTRY. 37 
 
 yond measure; and when, after passing through many 
 a dark ravine, and climbing the green slopes of the 
 great ranges, they gazed on the distant shining peaks 
 standing out against the blue sky, while all around 
 rose silently tall straight-stemmed trees, whose leaves 
 whispered away above them at an immense height, 
 the first feeling of that love of the wild bush, its silent 
 calm, and its eloquent beauty, began to dawn on him. 
 His spirit welled up within him, and he felt, and 
 rejoiced in, his strength — he revelled in the enjoyment 
 of life. An unknown future lay before him, but he 
 had no care as to what that future was ; he lived in 
 the present, and all was new and fascinating. 
 
 The startled kangaroo flying through the forest glade 
 — the harsh-voiced, big-headed, laughing jackass — the 
 bright-hued paroquet — the screeching cockatoo — and 
 a hundred other forms of life, — amazed and delighted 
 him. 
 
 How picturesque the encampment of bullock-drays 
 looked on the roadside, when, the day's work being 
 completed, the bows and yokes were taken off the 
 necks of the great oxen, and varied-toned sonorous 
 bells fastened round them instead, and the jangling 
 crowd was driven by a man on horseback up the creek 
 to some well-known spot, where the pasturage was 
 particularly good, the deep knell of the stock-whip 
 reverberating through the forest every now and then !
 
 38 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 How pleasant to see the preparations for the evening 
 meal, the huge fire of logs, the galvanised-tin bucket 
 full of tea, the smoking dish of beef and potatoes, 
 which, together with many other comforts and lux- 
 uries, proved that the Australian bullock-drivers have 
 a partiality for good living, and indulge it ! At last 
 they arrived at the end of their day's journey, an inn 
 similiar to the one they had spent the previous night 
 at ; and John's romantic imagination received a con- 
 siderable check, owing to the exquisite pain which an 
 alarming abrasion of his cuticle caused him. Indeed 
 he almost feared that the end of his journey would 
 find him minus the greater portion of his outer man. 
 
 He slept that night the sleep of the wearied " new 
 chum," and with his companions was on the road next 
 morning early enough to come upon a camp of fat 
 cattle travelling down to market. The haze of the 
 night had scarce lifted from the dank grass of the 
 wide rolling downs. The smoke of the camp-fire rose 
 lazily through the mist-laden atmosphere, at some dis- 
 tance from the road. A mounted horseman, enveloped 
 in a large blanket from head to foot, emerged from 
 the fog, and, as if out of the earth, there rose up 
 slowly and deliberately bullock after bullock, to the 
 number of forty or fifty, and took their way towards 
 town, the horseman moving quietly after them in a 
 zigzag manner. The mist clearing off soon after, dis-
 
 A START UP-COUNTRY. 39 
 
 closed a second horseman at the fire, apparently en- 
 gaged in packing the food and cooking-utensils upon 
 a spare horse, his own grazing beside him, the bridle 
 between its legs. 
 
 The scene which now met their eyes was one of 
 the greatest beauty; and John wondered at the un- 
 sympathetic manner with which his fellow-travellers 
 listened to his raptured expressions of delight, as he 
 viewed the vast extent of undulating, richly-grassed 
 prairie, lovely valleys with timber - crowned ridges 
 varying the beauty of the whole, while sharp wooded 
 promontories here and there ran far out into the wide 
 sea of plain, ranges of blue mountains forming the 
 frame of this enchanting picture. 
 
 The lowing of the distant herd fell soothingly upon" 
 the morning air as, grazing slowly, the sated cattle 
 made their way from the open country to the shady 
 camps under the trees, beside the cool waters of the 
 creek which flowed through this pleasant land. 
 
 As they proceeded they passed camp after camp 
 of bullock-drays, the drivers and assistants all busy 
 in yoking -up for the day. This cannot be effected 
 without much running about, shouting, swearing, and 
 use of the whip, which weapon the practised bullock- 
 driver wields with the most severe effect, each lash 
 leaving a long cut on the hide of the devoted beast, 
 who cringes under it. As bullock- drivers are con-
 
 40 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 tinually breaking-in young cattle, there is a constant 
 freshness in this work, which is by no means devoid 
 of danger, many of the young bullocks — and indeed 
 some of the older ones — being of uncertain temper, 
 and prone, when opportunity offers, to charge and 
 gore any unhappy wight unable to get out of their 
 
 way. 
 
 As the day wore on, they overtook bullock-drays 
 lurching along heavily in the ruts of the road, the 
 little keg of water at the tail-board swinging as if it 
 would wrench out the staple it hung by, and the driver 
 appealing occasionally to some bullock or other by 
 name, following up his admonition by a sweeping cut of 
 his " gully-raker," and a report like a musket-shot. The 
 intelligence displayed by the leaders and polers was 
 very great ; and they obeyed the word of the driver, 
 coming to him or moving from him, with the utmost 
 docility. The pace they travelled at barely exceeded 
 two miles an hour ; and the mite of a small boy who 
 in some instances drove the spare bullocks behind, 
 found relief from ennui in addressing imperious words 
 of command to them, couched in the strongest lan- 
 guage, with as big a voice as his small lungs could 
 produce.
 
 41 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 ROADSIDE SCENES — NIGHT AT A STATION — ARRIVAL 
 
 AT CAMBARANGA. 
 
 The travellers proceeded along the road, their horses 
 walking or jogging, which are the customary paces 
 when journeying. 
 
 They encountered and overtook many teams, their 
 drivers exchanging a morning salutation and a few 
 words of greeting with John's two friends, who seemed 
 to know, or know of, everybody they met. Occasion- 
 ally a horseman or two, or a pedestrian carrying his 
 worldly goods rolled up in his blanket and strapped 
 on his back, a billy (that is, a round tin pitcher with 
 a lid) in his hand, and with a dog or two at his heels, 
 met and passed them, exchanging the usual "good 
 morning." 
 
 These men all seemed to go without coats or waist- 
 coats, or braces, a waist-belt confining the trousers at 
 the girdle. Indeed, so much did this seem the fashion, 
 that partly induced by it, and partly by the heat, John
 
 4:2 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 soon followed suit, and rolled his upper clothing in the 
 swag in front of him. 
 
 Traces of favourite camping-places met their eyes 
 at every water-course they came to. Each lagoon or 
 water-hole had innumerable round spots of grey ashes, 
 with a few black embers lying among them, all around 
 it. Many of the surrounding trees were cut down for 
 fuel; and great numbers of empty jam-pots, salmon, 
 lobster, and sardine tins, broken brandy-bottles, per- 
 haps an old boot or two, and part of a rotten old 
 saddle, lay scattered about. Soon they passed a head- 
 station, as the homestead and main buildings of a 
 station are invariably called. It belonged to a very 
 rich squatter, whose name was a power in the country, 
 and was beautifully situated. The houses were com- 
 fortably built and of handsome design. A large gar- 
 den adjoined them ; creepers covered the verandas 
 and outbuildings, of which there were many; and 
 several paddocks of great extent, encircled by sub- 
 stantial posts and rail fences, surrounded the whole. 
 They shortly afterwards crossed a small running creek ; 
 and it being almost mid-day, a halt was called for the 
 purpose of giving the horses a spell and having a " pot 
 of tea." 
 
 Accordingly, the horses were unsaddled. They 
 were then taken down to the water and had their 
 backs washed, to prevent the sweat hardening under
 
 EOADSIDE SCENES. 43 
 
 the saddle and causing sores ; after whicli each had 
 a pair of hobbles fastened round his fore-fetlocks, a 
 proceeding which he quite seemed to expect ; and they 
 hobbled off in a series of short jerks, with their noses 
 to the ground, seeking for the softest spot in the 
 vicinity. This was no sooner discovered than they 
 dropped on their knees, and thence on their sides, 
 testifying their satisfaction by rolling over and over 
 repeatedly. Then springing to their feet and shaking 
 themselves free from dust and dirt, they set to work 
 to crop the grass. John was so much interested in 
 observing this that he forgot his own duties. How- 
 ever, his friend the ostler unstrapped the quarts and 
 filled them with water, the other man having made a 
 glorious fire in a few minutes. The quart-pots were 
 now put on to boil, swags were opened and food pro- 
 duced. John, unused to the ways of the bush, and 
 feeling, after the good breakfast, as if he never would 
 want food again, had neglected to take anything with 
 him for lunch, and now looked with considerable dis- 
 may at his own bulky but at present useless swag. 
 
 " Ah," said the ostler, " I know'd as how you new 
 chums never thinks o' nothing, so I brought enuff for 
 both of us." 
 
 " Look out there ! " he continued ; " quart-pot corro- 
 borree," springing up and removing with one hand 
 from the fire one of the quart-pots, which was boiling
 
 44 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 madly, while with the other he dropped in about as 
 much tea as he could hold between his fingers and 
 thumb. Then stirring it with a straw, he set it aside 
 to draw. The other quart-pot was served in a similar 
 way ; but John's, although in a hotter spot, showed 
 no signs of boiling. In vain he applied more fuel, the 
 fire seemed to have no effect. 
 
 " It's no use," said his friends ; " them new quarts 
 takes a month o' Sundays to bile. Ye see, ours has 
 been used many a day, and they're battered and black, 
 and takes kindly to it ; but them new ones don't like 
 it, somehow." 
 
 And so it was, for they had almost finished their 
 meal before the new quart " corroborreed," as the 
 stockman phrased it. It came in handy, however, 
 with the after-dinner pipe which both the men in- 
 dulged in. 
 
 Horses were now caught and saddled, swags were 
 strapped on, and they travelled onwards in the same 
 manner as in the morning. They had not gone very 
 far when Spot — the little bull-terrier pup which John 
 had brought with him from home, and which was grow- 
 ing rapidly into a very handsome young dog — made a 
 rush at something in the grass, and shook it violently. 
 
 " What is it ? " shouted John, greatly excited. 
 
 " Snake," returned both the men in a breath. 
 
 *' Oh, my dog, he will be bitten ! " cried poor John ;
 
 EOADSIDE SCENES. 45 
 
 and throwing himself off his horse he seized a bul- 
 lock's shin-bone which happened to be lying handy. 
 He struck the snake (a long, lithe, flat-headed black 
 one) such a blow on the head as to deprive it of 
 power. Bully rushed in again before John could pre- 
 vent him, and crushed its head between his jaws. 
 " Do you think he's hurt ? " asked John, anxiously. 
 " Well, if he ain't, it won't be long before he will 
 be," said the ostler ; " but, Lord, you never knows 
 when a beast gets bitten. Just the other day I was 
 a-ridin' along, and I notices a snake — the same kind 
 as that un — under my horse's feet, and I thought I 
 felt her give a bit of a kick with her off hindfoot, 
 but I wasn't sure like. Howsomever, she went along 
 picking up a mouthful of grass now an' agin quite 
 lively like, when all of a sudden she stopped and 
 trembled, then she lay down, and she died in half an 
 hour in mortial pain." 
 
 " Ay, sometimes they dies in five minutes," said the 
 other. " I think it all depends on whether their blood 
 is hot or not. If so be as they are warm, the pison 
 tells very quick ; and I think that 'ere dog is agoin' to 
 croak." 
 
 John's distress was very great at seeing his faithful 
 little companion move about uneasily, lie down, get 
 up, whine, lick his hand, then look up in his face as 
 if mutely asking help. Once or twice he returned to
 
 46 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 the dead snake and shook it, and John hoped they 
 were mistaken in the symptoms. But it was not so : 
 poor Bully shivered, drew up his limbs, became rigid, 
 recovered, whined again, kept licking his master's 
 hand, and at last died in great agony. 
 
 It was with a sore heart that John mounted his 
 horse to continue his journey. The dog had proved 
 a loving companion, and was growing very dear to 
 him ; besides which, he was very valuable on account 
 of his pure breed, and was generally admired. 
 
 That evening they reached the hotel to which 
 the ostler was bound ; and after spending the night 
 there, they bade him farewell next morning, the man 
 refusing to take the gratuity which John offered 
 him. 
 
 A similar day's travelling through forest - country 
 brought them at night to a station called Cooranilla. 
 They had struck off from the main highway early in 
 the morning, and had passed over many miles without 
 meeting a single traveller. Part of the distance lay 
 over poor country, covered with ti-tree, box, and iron- 
 bark saplings, with here and there heavy timber grow- 
 ing on sour-looking ridges. Lignum- vitae and bastard- 
 myall bushes were very common ; while huge, dense 
 scrubs, composed chiefly of bugalow-trees and under- 
 growth, lined the road in many places. In the neigh- 
 bourhood of these scrubs the game was especially
 
 NIGHT AT A STATION. 47 
 
 plentiful ; and kangaroos, paddy - melons, wallabies, 
 and kangaroo-rats crossed the road continually. Some- 
 times an iguana, disturbed from his siesta, would hurry 
 quickly to a tree at some distance off, which he would 
 ascend carefully on the opposite side to that on which 
 his enemy appeared. Just before reaching the station 
 the country improved. 
 
 In accordance with his mentor's advice, John rode 
 up to the main building of the station, hung his horse's 
 bridle to the fence, and walked to the house. 
 
 A lady came out to meet him ; and John, mention- 
 ing his name and destination, requested hospitality for 
 the night. He was most kindly received. The lady, 
 who was the wife of the owner of the station, calling 
 to a young blackboy to bring water for the horse's 
 back, showed John the entrance to the paddock, into 
 which he turned his horse. She then brought him 
 inside, and asking if the man who accompanied him 
 had gone down to the travellers' hut (a building 
 especially destined for the accommodation of the 
 labouring classes), she ushered him into a neat little 
 bedroom. Soon afterwards the clatter of horses' hoofs 
 announced the arrival of her husband — a big, bronzed 
 man, with a fair beard and a bright laughing eye. 
 He welcomed John in the most hearty manner ; and 
 before many minutes had elapsed, the young emigrant 
 found himself talking, laughing, and relating adven-
 
 48 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 tures to his new friends as if he had known them all 
 his life. 
 
 Dinner over, the rest of the evening was spent on 
 the veranda in pleasant conversation. His entertainers 
 earnestly pressed their guest to rest the next day ; but 
 John, who was anxious to get to the end of his journey, 
 declined. " Well," said the kindly squatter, " ' Wel- 
 come the coming, speed the parting guest ' is the rule 
 of the bush, you know. Breakfast will be on the table 
 at six to-morrow morning, and the horses in the yard 
 ready for you. Good night. " 
 
 Next morning, after breakfast, and bidding farewell 
 to the kind owners of Cooranilla, the horsemen pro- 
 ceeded to complete their last day's travel. The roads 
 were almost as deserted as on the preceding day. 
 They sometimes, though rarely, passed a footman 
 coming or going, or a tilted cart drawn by a couple 
 of horses, and occupied by the driver's wife, children, 
 and household goods. Towards the middle of the day, 
 they came upon cheerful -looking iron-bark ridges; 
 while on the right, green apple-tree flats bordered on 
 a well-watered creek, along whose banks numbers of 
 sleek, quiet, well -bred -looking cattle grazed. Occa- 
 sionally they passed through a "mob" standing on 
 the roadside, and John was greatly amused at seeing 
 some of the young calves and steers advancing boldly 
 to them with many airs of assumed anger, tearing
 
 EOADSIDE SCENES. 49 
 
 up the ground with their fore-feet, and shaking their 
 heads — only to scamper away, kicking their heels in 
 the air, on a movement being made towards them. 
 This, his companion informed him, was a part of Mr 
 Fitzgerald's run — Un-gah run; and pointed out, at 
 the same time, that the cattle had all, even to the 
 smallest, the letters FGD burnt into the skin of the 
 near-side rump. They were also all marked with a 
 peculiar slit in the off ear, — it being customary, and 
 indeed compulsory, as regarded protection of property, 
 for owners to brand and mark all their stock in a 
 similar manner. 
 
 After some miles they came to barer-looking country. 
 The grass did not seem so green, and was fed down 
 much shorter, and innumerable little paths ran leading 
 in the same directions. Towards evening they over- 
 took a flock of sheep, greatly scattered, and slowly 
 feeding towards a small hut which, with two large 
 yards, occupied a rising ground about half a mile 
 away. 
 
 The sheep seemed to have had plenty to eat during 
 the day, for their sides were very much distended, and 
 they moved slowly and steadily. The shepherd had 
 left them to find their way home themselves, and had 
 gathered a few sticks to make up his evening fire, 
 when, hearing the horses' feet, the two black-and-tan 
 collies which followed at his heels turned and barked, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 causing the slieep in their immediate neighbourhood 
 to rush suddenly and look round, and the shepherd to 
 set down his load and wait for them. 
 
 " Holloa, Tom ! " he shouted to John's guide ; " got 
 back again ? How are things looking down in Lime- 
 stone ? " 1 
 
 Tom gave a short description of what was going on, 
 and of the people he saw there, and of the appearance 
 of the country generally — all of which was listened to 
 with much interest by the shepherd. They now 
 pushed on at a faster pace, and the horses themselves 
 seemed anxious to get over the ground. It was dark 
 when they arrived at Cambaranga, as Mr Cosgrove's 
 station was called. The night hung heavily on the 
 dark forests which shaded each side of the road, but 
 above, the heaven was unclouded and bright with 
 stars. At last they saw a twinkling light in the dis- 
 tance. As they approach nearer, a dog, hearing the 
 tread of hoofs, barked sharply, causing numerous 
 others to take up the chorus. The dogs then made 
 a rush in concert (yelping all the time) to meet the 
 new-comers ; and satisfied on hearing the well-known 
 
 ^ The name Ipswich bore before it received its present appellation. 
 It is common for the older hands to retain the use of the name to 
 which they were first accustomed. Many of the Queensland towns 
 have these double names. For instance, Trowoomba was called the 
 Swamp ; Drayton, the Springs ; Dalby, Myall creek ; Roma the Bun- 
 gill, &c., &c.
 
 ARRIVAL AT CAMBARANGA. 51 
 
 voice of the stockman, they joyfully bring up the 
 rear. 
 
 John and his companion now arrive at the little 
 paling-fence which encloses the main buildings. Two 
 or three men come out and shake him by the hand 
 and ask a few questions. The stockman gives a short 
 account of his proceedings ; the unsaddled horses are 
 turned out free into the bush to find their favourite 
 haunts, and recruit after the journey ; and John is 
 brought through a veranda, thickly covered with 
 creepers, inside the house.
 
 52 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WORK — A VISIT TO THE 
 
 blacks' camp. 
 
 The room John West now found himself in was 
 small, but comparatively comfortable. Chinese mat- 
 ting covered the walls, which were of hardwood slabs 
 let horizontally into grooved upright posts. A large 
 fireplace, or open hearth, occupied the greater part of 
 one side of the room. The mantelpiece was covered 
 with odds and ends, such as pipes of all sizes and 
 shapes, a spur or two, specimens of gold-bearing 
 quartz, lumps of galena and copper ore, and other 
 samples of minerals. A rough sofa, a few primitive- 
 looking hardwood stools, and what is known in the 
 colonies as a squatter's easy-chair, together with a 
 table laid for dinner, completed the furniture of the 
 apartment. It could be detected at a glance that no 
 female held sway over the arrangements of the in- 
 terior, everything betokening bachelor untidiness. 
 "Now then, sit down to dinner," said a grizzly-
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WOEK. 53 
 
 bearded stern-looking man, with a gruff authoritative 
 voice, who was, as John guessed, Mr M'Duff, Mr Cos- 
 grove's superintendent. " Let me give you some salt 
 junk." John was hungry, and rather enjoyed the salt 
 beef, which was not very old. Some boiled pump- 
 kin and bread-and-butter completed the entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 The two other men lit their pipes, M'Duff stretched 
 himself on the sofa, and John took possession of a 
 squatter's chair. Conversation was carried on for 
 about an hour or two, and John was shown to the 
 room which was to be his, one of his new acquaint- 
 ances telling him, " You'll have to do without sheets, 
 old fellow, till your own come — that is, if you have 
 any — or else you'll have to send down to town to 
 buy some; the station doesn't provide unnecessary 
 luxuries." 
 
 The young Jackaroo^ woke early next morning, and 
 went out to look around him. Early as it was, he 
 found that Mr M'Duff and his two friends of the 
 former evening were already abroad. M'Duff gave 
 a grunt of satisfaction at seeing him up so early. 
 
 "Well, young man," he began, "so you don't like 
 lying abed, eh ? " 
 
 John modestly gave him to understand that it was 
 
 ^ The name by which young men who go to the Australian colo- 
 nies to pick up colonial experience are designated.
 
 54 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 very agreeable to him sometimes, but that this morning 
 he felt more inclined to satisfy his curiosity. 
 
 " You won't be troubled with much of it here," said 
 M'Duff, grimly. " Shearing is about to commence." 
 
 "You can spell to-day and look about you," he 
 added, "and to-morrow Stone here" (pointing to the 
 youngest and best-looking of the two men) " will put 
 you up to it. He is going to take charge of the wash- 
 pool. I shall be in the wool-shed all day. Come 
 along and look at the store." 
 
 They all proceeded to the store — a large wooden 
 building filled with an immense variety of goods, from 
 meerschaum -pipes and bottles of eau-de-Cologne, to 
 blankets and all sorts of slops. Large boxes stood in 
 the inner store full of jams, pickles, confectionery, 
 preserved apples, raisins, and almost everything one 
 could mention. A door opened into a little side-room, 
 fitted up as a meat-store, containing a salting-table 
 and meat-blocks, while all around meat-hooks hung 
 from the walls. 
 
 Just at that moment a woman came to the store- 
 door and asked for the storekeeper. "N'ow," said 
 M'Duff, "watch Mr Stone, and you'll see what your 
 work will be." 
 
 "I want my husband's rations for the week," said 
 the woman. 
 
 Stone proceeded to weigh out 8 lb. of flour, 2 lb. of
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WOKK. 55 
 
 sugar, and J lb. of tea, with a rapid, practised hand, 
 and to empty each quantity into the respective bags 
 which the woman had brought with her. 
 
 "Now," she said, "I want a pair of boots for 
 myself." 
 
 Stone brought down the articles in question, and 
 with many compliments on the shapely foot which 
 was being shod, soon satisfied the demand. 
 
 " Now let me have some beef," she said. 
 
 "All right. Go round to the window of the beef- 
 store," replied the seller. Here he plunged his arm 
 up to the elbow in the brine of the meat-cask, which 
 stood in a cool part of the store, and weighing out 
 the required quantity, he entered the different articles 
 against the woman in the day-book, and also in her 
 own pass-book, and returned to the party. 
 
 " Now," said M'Duff, " you'll find the price of every 
 article on a list in the desk : anything you want to 
 know about, ask Stone or me. You will have to be 
 up every morning before sunrise, attending to the cus- 
 tomers, and be here every evening about five. During 
 the day you can go with Mr Stone to the wash-pool, 
 and learn to wash sheep. I give him over to you, 
 Stone; make the best of him." 
 
 John took a fancy to Stone, who was a man of in- 
 telligence, of a quick decided character, and of gentle- 
 manly upbringing, though considerably roughened by
 
 56 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 constant bush-life. He was one of that numerous 
 class who have no capital to start with, and who 
 spend almost all they earn in a generous, careless way. 
 After breakfast, the other man, who was considerably 
 older than either M'Duff or Stone, and whose name 
 was Graham, caught and saddled his horse. 
 
 M'Duff had his brought down by a blackboy, 
 and having saddled it himself, he rode away with 
 Graham to search for a flock of sheep which were 
 reported as lost. Stone then took John round the 
 buildings of the head-station. 
 
 These were all built of wood, forming a square, a 
 court occupying the centre. In front was a large, 
 low-verandaed cottage, thickly covered with roses and 
 vines, one room of which was occupied by Mr M'DuJff. 
 The sides of the square were formed by the store, with 
 its offices on the one side and the kitchen buildings 
 on the other; while the fourth side was filled up by 
 the building John had dined and slept in, and which 
 was called " The Bachelors' Hall." A stable and cart- 
 shed, and a dry store for the reception of flour, salt, 
 and other commodities, lay on one side in a line with 
 the bachelors' quarters ; farther away was a hut for 
 the use of the men; and a substantially-built stock- 
 yard, or enclosure for cattle and horses, occupied a site 
 still more remote. 
 
 A paddock -fence wound away across the creek
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WORK. 57 
 
 which ran at the back of the station, and enclosed a 
 piece of ground about a mile square, well grassed, and 
 sheltered by many trees. An ample garden lay on 
 the other side of a little creek which joined the main 
 or Cambaranga creek just below the kitchen. Above 
 the garden, on an eminence, was situated a substan- 
 tially-built commodious wool-shed and wool-store, with 
 several conveniently arranged yards for working sheep, 
 and with a number of men's huts. 
 
 "There," said Stone, pointing to the big house, 
 "nobody has lived in the cawhawn humpy — that is 
 what the blacks call it — since Mr Cosgrove went 
 away. That old cove M'Duff is a methodical old 
 Scotchman, and I believe if you saw the inside of it 
 you w^ould find the tables and chairs in the saiTie 
 places they occupied when Mr Cosgrove departed." 
 
 They looked into the dry store at the immense 
 quantities of flour and salt which were piled up there, 
 and then proceeded to the stock-yard. " There is the 
 slaughtering -yard," said Stone, pointing out a small 
 enclosure where two high posts supported a tumbler 
 with long arms, having ropes hanging from them. 
 " This is the gallows for hoisting up the slaughtered 
 bullocks. You, as storekeeper, will be head-butcher." 
 
 Many heads and feet of defunct bullocks, in various 
 stages of decay, lay about ; and on the branches of the 
 neighbouring trees, and in endless rows on the caps
 
 58 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 of the stock-yard, sat innumerable gorged kites and 
 crows, waiting until their repletion should abate suf- 
 ficiently to allow them to partake of another meal. 
 
 The two returned, crossed the creek, and entered 
 the wool-shed. It was an immense building on piles ; 
 compartments with grated flooring, and little doors 
 leading into and out of them, lined the sides ; pens 
 for sheep occupied the middle and one end. A lane 
 went down on either side, between the compartments 
 and the middle pen, floored with smooth planks for 
 the shearers to work on. At the other end a long 
 grated table, on which the fleeces were rolled up, 
 crossed the room from side to side. Bins for holding 
 different sorts of fleeces were ranged against the wall, 
 and a large wool-press stood near the door. 
 
 " This building cost £2000," said Stone, " and it was 
 cheap at that. In a few weeks' time you will see it 
 fall of shearers and sheep, and the interminable click- 
 click of the shears will be going on for nearly three 
 months." 
 
 " Mr Cosgrove must be a very rich man," said John, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Oh yes," said the other ; " I suppose he could sell 
 this station for about £50,000. There are 60,000 sheep 
 on it, and about 300 head of cattle, and lots of horses — 
 and the improvements, you know ; besides which, he 
 has had a splendid income from his wool for some
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WOEK. 59 
 
 years past, and I am told he does not spend much. 
 But you know him better than I do. I only came 
 here by chance about six months ago." 
 
 " Is this a large station ? " inquired John. 
 
 ** There are about eleven hundred square miles, good, 
 bad, and indifferent on it, and it all belongs to Mr Cos- 
 grove — at least he pays a nominal rent for a lease of 
 it to the Government for a term of years. Should the 
 Crown require the land at any time — as, for instance, 
 for a gold-field, or to build townships on, or for reserves 
 for any purpose — the present lessee would have to give 
 it up, receiving as indemnification only the price of 
 the improvements he has made, — that is to say, the 
 buildings, stock -yards, fences, and other permanent 
 works. Should the land be required for agricultul^al 
 purposes, he has the right of pre-emption over a por- 
 tion of it at the Government upset price. They are 
 always changing and altering the land-laws in Bris- 
 bane. They never get one to their mind. There is 
 a constant war between the small farmer and la- 
 bouring classes — who desire to own small pieces of 
 land — and the squatters. The little fellows want to 
 be allowed to spread themselves all over the country, 
 and pick out any piece of ground they may fancy, no 
 matter how prejudicial to the squatter's interest ; and 
 they dab themselves and their families down in those 
 spots to maintain a precarious existence by growing
 
 60 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 whatever will grow, breeding a few scrubbing horses 
 and cattle, stealing the rich man's stock, and en- 
 deavouring generally to make themselves as unpleas- 
 ant as possible, with a view to compelling the squatter, 
 in self-defence, to give them a large price for their 
 holdings ; and when they have got that, they light, 
 like a blow-fly, on some other choice central piece of 
 ground, or around some water-hole which it is essen- 
 tial for the squatter to possess. So say the squatters. 
 The cockatoo settlers, or free selectors, on the other 
 hand, fight desperately for the privilege ; and having 
 numbers on their side, and a certain amount of right, 
 they make a good fight. This run has as yet escaped. 
 It is, if anything, too far away yet; but in a few 
 years, no doubt, selectors will be scattered over it 
 and the neighbouring stations." 
 
 " And the sheep are spread over this immense terri- 
 tory ? How do you manage with them ? " still pursued 
 the astonished new chum. 
 
 " We divide them into conveniently-sized flocks, from 
 1000 up to about 3000, but generally the number is 
 about 1800. It depends greatly upon the class of 
 sheep. ^ Strong sheep may go in greater flocks than 
 the weaker ones, but the great object is to combine 
 economy with the health of the animal. Huts and 
 
 1 Of late years sheep are not often shepherded, but are enclosed in 
 paddocks and left to themselves.
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND NEW WORK. 61 
 
 yards are built at selected spots all over the run. Two 
 shepherds usually live together at a hut. Each flock 
 occupies a yard. Food is sent out once a-week to 
 these men. The overseer visits them once a-week, 
 and counts their flocks to make sure that they have 
 not lost any — although they generally know them- 
 selves, and come in to give notice when this is the 
 case. They bring in their flocks once a -year to be 
 washed and shorn ; the rest of the time they spend in 
 shepherding, and accumulating a cheque, which they 
 will knock down at the first public-house they arrive 
 at after leaving the station." 
 
 " And how far away from the head-station are their 
 huts ? " asked John. 
 
 "It depends upon the country. If the country at 
 the far end of the run is well grassed, it will be occu- 
 pied by a flock of sheep or two. Some of them are 
 twenty-five miles away ; others twenty, fifteen, seven, 
 nine, one, two, five, and so on. I am going out this 
 afternoon to count the sheep at about seven miles away, 
 and if you are not too tired you can come with me." 
 
 " I shall be very glad," returned John ; " but tell 
 me, have you any head - stations in the immediate 
 neighbourhood ? " 
 
 " None nearer than fifteen miles. It is a station of 
 the name of Betyammo. A very nice old fellow, who 
 has a very kind wife and two daughters, owns it, and
 
 62 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 they will be glad to see you over there. Further round 
 this way, thirty miles away," continued Stone, shifting 
 his hand over about a quarter of the horizon, "you 
 have Barhani Plains — a very swell station, owned by 
 an old fellow who lives almost always down in Syd- 
 ney, hanging about the clubs. He is a member of 
 Parliament, and I don't know what all. He has a 
 swell superintendent, — owner gives him £1000 a-year 
 for doing nothing. The station is so good that the 
 sheep almost manage themselves. The ' super ' drives 
 four-in-hand, wears kid gloves on the run, keeps race- 
 horses, and leaves the work to a couple of overseers. 
 Pound this way is Ungahrun, a cattle station owned 
 by a Mr Fitzgerald, and managed by his son, the 
 smartest young fellow in this part of the district. 
 He has about 8000 head of cattle. It is distant 
 about twenty-five miles. Then here you have, twenty 
 miles off, Mosquito Creek — a sheep - station with 
 about 10,000 sheep, belonging to two young fellows 
 who bought the place lately. Then, lastly, we come 
 to Bindarobina, twenty - five miles distant — a large 
 station, with about 50,000 sheep and 10,000 head of 
 cattle, belonging to the United Australian Pastoral Co., 
 a London firm. It is a fine run, but expensively man- 
 aged ; and of course the shareholders are far away, and 
 understand nothing about station-work, so the manager 
 does pretty well as he likes. He is a great friend of
 
 A VISIT TO THE BLACK'S CAMP. 63 
 
 the manager at Barham Plains — the two run in couples ; 
 and here we are back to Betyammo." 
 
 " Now," said John to his friendly companion, " I 
 want to go and look at the blacks I see camped over 
 there in the paddock. Do they belong to this place ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Stone, " they are part of the Cam- 
 baranga tribe ; but I believe great numbers are ex- 
 pected to-morrow. In all probability we shall see 
 them camped a few miles from here this afternoon ; 
 that is the road they are coming by." 
 
 They recrossed the creek into the paddock, and 
 made their way to a little encampment of small 
 conical huts, made of the bark of trees. A few 
 sticks burnt slowly, and wdth much smoke, in front 
 of two or three. Inside, dirty 'possum - skins arfd 
 ragged shirts and trousers lay on the ground, making 
 a bed for numbers of blear-eyed hairless dogs, whose 
 skin showed pink, or blue, or mouse colour. Outside, 
 a middle-aged, not uncomely-looking black " gin," sat 
 roasting a bullock's bone on the embers, and picking 
 off such parts as she conceived were cooked enough, 
 then thrusting it amongst the ashes for a further 
 period. An old man or two, with snow-white hair, 
 completely naked, lay stretched in the sun, and lazily 
 turned over when the new-comers approached them. 
 
 ''' What is your name ? " asked John of one of them. 
 
 " Me Jacky, — old man," replied darky.
 
 64 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 " Where is your country ? " 
 
 " Heah country belongin' to me ; this one — Cam- 
 baranga — my country." 
 
 "What for bail you look out kangaroo to-day, 
 Jacky ? " said Stone. 
 
 "Oh, me poor fellow"' (sick), returned Jacky, ad- 
 dressing a few words in his own language to his sable 
 brother, and going off into a fit of laughter, showing 
 his strong white teeth ; then producing a pipe from 
 the middle of his shock of white curls, and inserting 
 his finger into the bowl, he held it out to John, 
 cleverly detecting his inexperience at a glance, and 
 in a whining tone said, " Poor fellow Jacky ! bail got 
 it toombacco — bail 'moke " (got not tobacco — nothing 
 to smoke). 
 
 Stone threw him a small piece of Barrett's twist, 
 apologetically remarking to John, " He's a dreadfully 
 lazy old vagabond, but occasionally he comes in handy 
 to shepherd an odd flock for a few days, when there is 
 no one else about." 
 
 The old gin and the other old warrior, on seeing 
 their compatriot successful in his appeal, clamorously 
 begged a small donation of the blessed weed ; but 
 Stone, disregarding their prayers, walked off. 
 
 " What a peculiar smell there is about these crea- 
 tures ! " suddenly said John. 
 
 " Oh yes, every nigger has that distinguishing qual-
 
 A VISIT TO THE BLACKS* CAMP. 65 
 
 ity very strong, more especially when hot. Cattle 
 dislike it exceedingly — so much so, that I have known 
 a whole mob stampede merely from crossing the tracks 
 made by niggers a few hours previously. Some years 
 ago, before the blacks were allowed to come in about 
 these stations, they revenged themselves on the white 
 men who occupied their country by killing their cattle, 
 as well as a man or two occasionally. They do so 
 sometimes still, when they think themselves safe from 
 observation, and the cattle never forget it. Even those 
 who never saw blacks before get frightened or enraged 
 at their appearance. It would seem as if they have 
 some way of communicating their hatred and fear to 
 one another." 
 
 "What makes the dogs so blear-eyed and hair- 
 less ? " asked the new hand. 
 
 " Sleeping under 'possum cloaks and blankets. 
 Blacks think as much or more of their dogs as 
 they do of their children, and the great heat in the 
 gunyahs (bark huts) causes an unnatural perspiration 
 to break forth, which soon deprives them of hair and 
 makes their skin wrinkle up as you saw. A black's 
 dog soon loses the distinguishing characteristics of a 
 white man's dog, and acquires others peculiar to its 
 mode of life; but they are useful to the blacks in 
 hunting the game upon which they depend for a 
 living, and they cherish them accordingly. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 QQ BUSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 " Don't tliese black creatures wear clothes ? " in- 
 quired young AVest. 
 
 "Well, tliey do occasionally, but only wlien com- 
 pelled to, or when the fit takes them. The blackboys 
 working about the station like to wear trousers when 
 riding, to protect their legs ; besides which, clothes 
 make them more like white men, and some of them 
 have a great idea of their dignity ; but when they 
 get to the camp in the evening they take off every- 
 thing. You may bring them up with the greatest 
 care," continued Stone, " educate them, and show them 
 civilised life, but when they return to their old haunts, 
 off go the clothes and they take to the bush. The 
 wild nature seems exceedingly strong in them." 
 
 In the afternoon the two young men saddled horses 
 and rode out to a sheep-station called the Seven-mile 
 Hut. About three miles from the station they came 
 upon some more blacks who were engaged in making 
 a camp for the night. This they did by simply light- 
 ing a fire and disposing of their few effects around it : 
 the men stuck their spears in the ground, each in the 
 vicinity of his own fire. Nullah-nullahs,^ paddy-melon 
 sticks, boomerangs, tomahawks, and heelimen or shields, 
 lay about in every direction. The men employed them- 
 selves in roasting wallabies, 'possums, kangaroos, and 
 other game ; the gins were engaged in bringing up 
 
 ^ Native weapons.
 
 A VISIT TO THE BLACKS' CAMP. 67 
 
 water from the creek in their wooden coolamen. Picca- 
 ninnies of all ages played about: some chopped the 
 bark off trees ; others were climbing saplings, or chas- 
 ing each other about the camp. All were perfectly- 
 nude and happy. As Stone and West proceeded 
 further along the road they met small parties all 
 making their way to the camp, hunting as they went. 
 These were chiefly women and children, the men 
 having gone in a body together for the purpose of 
 assisting one another to surround the game. These 
 parties seemed to fill the forest on each side of the 
 road, no party following the path another had gone 
 in. Thus each had a similar chance of finding game 
 as they moved forward. The regular sharp chop-choj; 
 of the tomahawks could be heard here and there where 
 some of them had discovered a sugar-bag ^ or a 'possum 
 on a tree. 
 
 There were piccaninnies of all sizes. All the 
 very little children were round and fat, big-eyed, 
 curly-haired, and pot-bellied. Some of the younger 
 women and girls were passably good-looking, with 
 bright eyes and white teeth; but their short-cropped 
 hair, flat noses, and small limbs were much against 
 them. 
 
 " Where are they all bound for ? " asked John. 
 
 " Oh, there is a corrohorree on the boards in the 
 
 1 A nest of honey.
 
 68 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 neighbourhood, and these blacks are making to it/' 
 returned Stone. 
 
 "A corrohorree ! what is that ? " 
 
 " It is a meeting of the tribes to dance and sing ; 
 they are passionately fond of both. Some black fel- 
 low at a great distance, it may be, composes a new air, 
 of only a couple of bars most likely, and sets some 
 words to it. His tribe go into ecstasies over it. They 
 send runners to the neighbouring tribes, inviting them 
 to come over and hunt on their grounds, and listen to 
 the new corroborree. Great numbers arrive ; the cor- ' 
 roborree is danced nioht after nisjht with the utmost 
 enthusiasm ; the game gets scarce, and all the tribes 
 move forward in a direction determined by them in 
 council. These corroborrees travel for many hundreds 
 of miles from the place where they originated. The 
 original tribes fall off and return to their respective 
 territories ; but new ones take their place, and the cor- 
 roborree is carried away to distant tribes speaking a 
 totally different language, and utterly ignorant of, and 
 totally indifferent as to, the meaning of what they 
 sing, provided the air catches their fancy. These 
 composers pretend that the Spirit of Evil originally 
 manufactured the corroborree, and that, owing to their 
 magic arts, they were enabled to get into his vicinity 
 and overhear the air. No corroborree is thought any- 
 thing of which has not some superstition to recom-
 
 A SECRET CEREMONY. 69 
 
 mend it. At some of these corroborrees is held the 
 secret ceremony of the hora, to which no white man 
 has ever been admitted, and about which the blacks 
 themselves are particularly silent." 
 
 " And what do they do at these ceremonies ? " ques- 
 tioned John. 
 
 " Oh, they admit boys among the warriors, and girls 
 anions^ the women." 
 
 "And has no white man ever seen the ceremony?" 
 
 " Never to my knowledge," said Stone. " Many pre- 
 tend that they know a good deal from the young black- 
 boys with whom they have been brought up in child- 
 hood, but the fact is, that until initiated the boys are 
 themselves ignorant. It is well understood that they 
 have certain trials to undergo in order to prove their 
 fortitude, patience, courage, and endurance ; but be- 
 yond that, little is certain. The blacks select an ex- 
 ceedingly flat piece of ground in a remote locality for 
 the purpose, and take care, by posting circles of sen- 
 tries around their camp, that they shall not be dis- 
 turbed. In some districts the neophytes have a front 
 tooth knocked out of the upper jaw." 
 
 They now approached the sheep-station, and, meet- 
 ing the shepherd, Stone signified his intention of 
 counting the sheep. Tying up their horses, therefore, 
 they proceeded to the gate of the yard, which they 
 fixed firmly, wide enough to allow about three sheep
 
 70 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 abreast to enter. The sheplierd brought the sheep 
 up, and they passed in rapidly, each hundred being 
 called out by Stone, and notched on a stick by John, 
 who kept the tally. The deaths were then given in 
 by the shepherd, and the total number having been 
 found all right, they returned home, reaching the 
 station about an hour after dark, there being little 
 or no twilight. 
 
 As they passed the camp of blacks the scene looked 
 highly picturesque. Tires dotted the forest, lighting 
 up the trees, and shadowy forms moved from one light 
 to another, while the gabble of tongues was incessant. 
 The horses they rode seemed to know the way per- 
 fectly, and walked very much quicker towards home 
 than they did when leaving it. 
 
 During supper M'DufF and the overseer gave an 
 account of how they had searched fruitlessly in differ- 
 ent directions for the missing sheep, whose loss had 
 taken them away in the morning. They had been 
 foiled in their endeavour to follow the tracks several 
 times, owing to the fact that some one of the flocks in 
 the neighbourhood (through whose grazing-ground the 
 lost ones were wandering) had passed over and obliter- 
 ated their footprints. There seemed to be no fear of 
 losing them altogether, it being considered almost cer- 
 tain that some one of the surrounding shepherds would 
 come across them in the course of the next day ; still
 
 ''DINGOES." 71 
 
 a good deal of uneasiness was expressed lest the un- 
 protected mob should be assaulted by the native dogs. 
 
 M'Duff accordingly gave instructions for poison to 
 be laid by John on every opportunity. The conversa- 
 tion now turned on dingoes, the Australian name for 
 the wild dogs so destructive to sheep. They were — so 
 M'Duff said — neither more nor less than wolves, but 
 more cowardly and not so ferocious, seldom going in 
 large packs. They hunted kangaroos when in num- 
 bers, or driven to it by hunger ; but usually preferred 
 smaller and more easily obtained prey, as rats, bandi- 
 coots, and 'possums. Many were run down by men on 
 horseback for the sake of the sport, — the horseman 
 undoing his stirrup-leather, and slipping the iron to 
 the extreme end, knocked out the brains of the aninrnl 
 as he galloped past. Some are caught in traps made 
 of gigantic hollow logs, with hanging doors fitted to 
 them, after the common mouse-trap fashion ; but most 
 are destroyed by poison. 
 
 Each man on a sheep-station carries, or should 
 carry, strj'chnine, in order to poison the carcass of 
 any dead animal he may chance to find on his wan- 
 derings through the bush; also a pouch attached to 
 his saddle, containing small pieces of meat already 
 poisoned, each bait wrapped in paper. These dingoes 
 break into a fold of sheep at night, and often bite and 
 kill scores of them, generally endeavouring to tear out
 
 72 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 the liver. Their bite is poisonous in a great measure, 
 and very difficult to heal. They are usually of a 
 yellow- red colour, with a white -tipped bushy tail. 
 Some few are black. 
 
 M'Duff soon left the little company to retire to his 
 own room. He was a man of few words, his taci- 
 turnity being rather caused by long residence among 
 the bush solitudes than from disposition. His whole 
 thoughts were wrapped up in his sheep. He seldom 
 took interest in anything except station-work ; and as 
 long as he had good lambings, and got rid of his old 
 ewes and wethers at a high price, he cared little about 
 the world. He had a keen eye for a bargain; and 
 certainly Cosgrove pitched upon the right man to put 
 in charge of his affairs when he selected M'Duff, for 
 the old Scotchman laboured and slaved away from 
 morning until night. He never spared himself or 
 others when station -work had to be done. Old 
 Graham, the overseer — a rough, hard-working bush- 
 man, though a confirmed drunkard when grog was to 
 be procured — had the highest opinion of the ability of 
 the " old man," as he called him. 
 
 " He has been pioneering on the frontier for the last 
 twenty years," he said, *' and there isn't his match in 
 the country to judge sheep, or cattle either." 
 
 " He must be pretty well off," said Stone. " The 
 old fellow does not drink, and he never goes to town,
 
 A REGULAR " SELL." " 73 
 
 SO he can't spend any money. What does he do 
 with it?" 
 
 ''Well," said Graham, who had been on the station 
 for many years, "it was about five years before Mr 
 Cosgrove went home that the ' old man ' came here, and 
 he had a good bit of money then, for he once spoke to 
 me about investing it ; but it strikes me that he has 
 purchased a share in this station, for you may depend 
 Cosgrove would never go home and leave everything 
 in his hands without having a guarantee of some sort 
 for its proper management." 
 
 " Like enough," returned Stone. " That accounts 
 why he has the credit of being such a ' nipper.' " 
 
 " Of course, any profit that accrues to the station 
 he has a share in. By the way," continued Grahdm, 
 " we got a regular ' sell ' at the ten-mile sheep-station 
 to-day." 
 
 " What was that ? " inquired Stone. 
 
 " Well, you know how often passing travellers have 
 robbed old Jones of his rations. The hut is close to 
 the main road, and easily found by the sheep-tracks." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Well, I happened to grow very hungry to-day 
 about one o'clock, and being close to the ' ten-mile ' I 
 made for it, to have a search for old Jones's rations, 
 and a feed if possible. When I got there I saw the 
 old man's horse tied up to the door. He had come on
 
 74 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 a similar errand. Well, after searching some time in 
 vain, I found, planted away among the sheets of bark 
 of which the roof is composed, a stunning-looking pie 
 — no crust, you know — soft bake. We sat down, and 
 there was only a small corner of it left when we got 
 up, and we put that back in the old plant. The old 
 man liked it A 1, and, says he, 'We'll come back here 
 to-night and count the sheep, to see whether he has 
 picked up any or not of the lost ones, and will tell him 
 to order plums or currants, or something out of the 
 store, to make up for what we've eaten.' So when we 
 came to the hut at night old Jones was growling a 
 hurricane. Before we could say anything he roars 
 out — 
 
 " ' Them dogs of travellers have been 'ere agin, 
 
 but they didn't get none of my rations this time.' 
 
 " ' What did they find ? ' asked I, looking at the boss, 
 whose face grew as long as my arm suddenly. 
 
 " ' Why/ says he, ' I've been collecting all the rags 
 of meat and chewed gristles I couldn't swaller, ye 
 know — my poor ole teeth ain't as good as they wonst 
 was — and I fried the hull lot up wi' some punkins for 
 
 the dogs, you see, but there ain't much left. D 
 
 them, these wretches, they won't even give the 
 
 dogs a cliance ! I'll putt pison in it next time.' " 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the others. " How did the 
 old man like that ? "
 
 A EEGULAR " SELL." 75 
 
 '' Oh, he never said a word, but counted the sheep, 
 and came home as sulky as a bear. Every now and 
 then, however, I could see him shake his head as if 
 disgusted, and say ' Bah ! ' " 
 
 "Well," laughed Stone, "after that I'll go to bed. 
 You must have the stomach of an emu to tell the 
 story."
 
 76 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OLD JACKY IN A FIX — SHEARING AND WASHING. 
 
 Next morning John commenced his duties as store- 
 keeper, and found that he had to be up early to get 
 the people on the station served, and all the rations for 
 the various sheep-stations which were to be taken out 
 that day weighed and made up in bags before break- 
 fast. M'Duff and Graham started away, taking with 
 them a blackboy to follow up the tracks of the sheep 
 when they found a difficulty in so doing themselves; 
 and Stone went out with the stockman to get a bul- 
 lock in for killing. 
 
 John had to lay poisoned baits on the roads near 
 the station. Late in the afternoon, on returning, he 
 heard the sound of a whip two or three times, and 
 shortly afterwards a mob of about ten head of cattle 
 came over the ridge towards the stock -yard. They 
 seemed rather frightened at suddenly coming on the 
 buildings, and made two or three attempts to turn and 
 gallop off; but each time they were wheeled back by
 
 A FEROCIOUS COW. 77 
 
 the two men who rode behind them, and whose horses 
 seemed to take as lively an interest in yarding them 
 as their riders felt. 
 
 As soon as the cattle entered the great stock-yard 
 they were driven into a smaller enclosure, thence up 
 a narrow lane of high fencing into the small square 
 slaughtering-yard. John now came up to look at 
 them. In appearance they were just the same as Eng- 
 lish cattle, but much wilder, and bore the station brand 
 and ear-mark. They stared and tossed their heads as 
 John advanced on foot, but took little notice of a man 
 on horseback. None of them had ever been handled in 
 their lives except when they were branded and ear- 
 marked, and none had ever seen the inside of a stall. 
 An old red cow, with one horn cocked and the otlier 
 turned down over her face, seemed to dislike being 
 looked at very much. She was very hot, having run a 
 good part of the way home, as her panting sides and 
 protruding tongue betrayed. Her temper was also of 
 a rather infirm character, for John had not been a 
 couple of minutes at the rails before she charged up in 
 his direction with a savage ferocity which quite ifright- 
 ened him. 
 
 However, his equanimity being restored on contem- 
 plating the strength of the yard, he waited for a little, 
 observing her motions. Sometimes she would rush in 
 amongst the others as if endeavouring to hide herself ;
 
 78 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 then she would make her way round the yard as if 
 seeking an opening for escape, when, seeing John, she 
 would again rush at him with her head low, uttering 
 an angry and baffled roar. Then she would back 
 towards the rest, tearing up the dust with her feet, 
 time about, and shaking her vicious black-horned old 
 head. 
 
 Now the knives having been properly ground. Stone 
 came up with some men, bringing a bucket full of 
 water, an axe, a clean cloth, and the steel. The blacks, 
 who are always exceedingly active on these occasions, 
 were all ordered to keep away until the bullock was 
 shot, and the rest of the cattle let go, their presence 
 only serving to madden the uneasy animals. Jacky, 
 the old black fellow, who had begged tobacco from 
 John the previous day, and who was a privileged 
 person, was alone permitted to accompany the butchers 
 as a great favour. Accordingly, to be out of the w^ay, 
 Jacky took up a position in a neighbouring yard, 
 leaning against a tree which grew in the centre of 
 it, knowing from former experience that it was not 
 required on such occasions for cattle. 
 
 Stone now approached to shoot the beast chosen 
 for beef, but the wildness of the old cow prevented 
 him from obtaining a steady aim ; so, calling upon 
 the stockman to open the gate of the narrow lane 
 through which the cattle had been allowed to enter.
 
 OLD JACKY IN A FIX. 79 
 
 he drafted the old cow back. He was, after a few 
 minutes' delay, about to fire, when a wild yell from 
 Jacky caused all hands to look up and shout with 
 laughter. 
 
 The cow had managed to make her way into Jacky's 
 yard through a gate which had been left unfastened, 
 and noticing the black fellow, who was unconsciously 
 gazing at the beast which was before long to provide 
 him with an unlimited gorge, she made a desperate 
 rush. Jacky, hearing the noise, and feeling her warm 
 breath on his naked skin about the same instant, gave 
 utterance to the shriek which had startled every one, 
 and making what looked to be Herculean strides up 
 the tree, just saved his bacon. 
 
 The disappointed " milky mother of the herd," sfill 
 thirsting for his blood, kept w^atch below, no one feel- 
 ing inclined to alleviate Jacky's terror or spoil the fun. 
 The bullock was now shot, and the other cattle let out 
 into a neighbouring yard. A rope w^as put round the 
 horns of the prostrate animal, and dragged by three or 
 four white men and half-a-score of blacks, all the pic- 
 caninnies tailing on with many a jest. It was soon 
 pulled under the gallows, to which, after being bled 
 and skinned, the carcass was hoisted, and left for the 
 night. The blacks received the paunch, head, and 
 feet as their share. The hide was taken to the hide- 
 house, spread out, and salted. Old Jacky was released
 
 80 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 from his lofty position, and the cattle were turned out 
 into the bush. 
 
 Mr M'Duff and his overseer returned home that 
 night in good spirits, the missing sheep having all 
 been found. 
 
 In this manner the days passed for a week or two, 
 when signs of the approach of the grand event of the 
 year began to make themselves manifest. 
 
 Men singly, or in twos and threes, kept arriving, 
 inquiring as to the terms of shearing and washing. 
 The washers were, as a class, considerably below the 
 shearers. They were composed chiefly of what is 
 called in the bush "knock-about men" — that is, men 
 who are willing to undertake any work, sometimes 
 shepherding, sometimes making yards or droving. 
 They are paid about the rate of five shillings per day, 
 besides their food. 
 
 The shearers, on the other hand, were often small 
 settlers from some little township, who came up at 
 this time of the year to earn a cheque, so as to enable 
 them to eke out the scanty subsistence their farms 
 afforded — for most of them were but young settlers, 
 and had a heavy expense in getting things in order. 
 Some were what is termed, par excellence, bushmen — 
 that is, men who split rails, get posts, shingles, take 
 contracts for building houses, stock-yards, &c., — men, 
 in fact, who work among timber continually, sometimes
 
 ENGAGEMENT OF WASHERS AND SHEARERS. 81 
 
 felling and splitting, sometimes sawing — an intelligent, 
 hard-working body of men, who number amongst them 
 some of the very best specimens of Australian work- 
 men. An odd shepherd or two — who shepherded at 
 other times of the year, but were allowed as a favour 
 to make their flocks over to some one else, while they 
 earned rather more than their regular occupation could 
 give them — and perhaps a stray stockman, were to be 
 found amiong a crowd. 
 
 The washers came up in a body, and signed their 
 agreement, " to wash one and all of the sheep on the 
 establishment," without any fuss ; but the shearers, 
 being skilled workmen, hummed and hawed about 
 their engagement as being more important. The 
 question as to whether they would accept a certain 
 amount per score and find their own rations, or a less 
 amount and be found by the station, had to be dis- 
 cussed. Then another serious consideration was as 
 to whether the station should find a cook for them 
 during shearing, or whether they would have to pro- 
 vide one for themselves. These matters, however, 
 did not take very long in settling. 
 
 A couple of days before commencing, the agreement 
 was signed. Shears had been served out ; the cook 
 had his arrangements complete for accommodating 
 upwards of twenty men wdth seats at a rough table, 
 under a rough shed covered with leaves. Each man 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 BUSH -LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 had put himself up a bunk in the large hut specially 
 devoted to shearers ; their horses were all driven into 
 some well-grassed quiet " pocket," from which it was 
 unlikely they would stray; and everything was in 
 readiness. 
 
 Meanwhile the wash -pool arrangements had been 
 going on with great vigour. Stone and John, occa- 
 sionally visited by old M'Duff, had got the permanent 
 yards on the big water-hole put in order. Hurdles 
 for gates had been carted down. Parallel poles, rest- 
 ing on forks driven into the bed of the water-hole, 
 were run out on the surface of the stream, forming 
 square soak-holes, a long narrow lane leading out to 
 the dry land. A stage was built, from which the 
 sheep could be allowed to slide easily into the water 
 of the first soak-hole. A Californian pump, worked 
 by horses, and ready to fill a huge tank — the water 
 from which, issuing from two long slits in the bottom, 
 was intended to gush over the sheep, and give them 
 the final cleansing, after they had been sufficiently 
 washed by hand — was erected, and in full working 
 order, and every other arrangement completed. 
 
 A cloud of dust and the barking of a dog announce 
 the arrival of the first flock to be washed. They are 
 counted into the yard. The overseer compares notes 
 with Stone, and the number is found to be correct, — 
 none dropped on the road in. Next morning a certain
 
 SHEEP-WASHING. 83 
 
 number are counted out and taken early to the wash- 
 pool. The yards are arranged in a circular form, so 
 that sheep may not get into corners, and remain with- 
 out moving. They are then plunged from the stage 
 into the water, and are passed one by one tJirough the 
 soak-hole under the poles dividing the soak-holes, and 
 up the -narrow lane. The washers, some of whom 
 have taken up positions in the lane, standing up to 
 their waists in water, roughly squeeze the wool as the 
 sheep pass ; while others, standing on the poles of the 
 soak-holes, crutch them with a long-handled wooden 
 crutch. Some blacks have also taken their places in 
 the lane, and are in some instances an example to their 
 white brethren in the matter of squeezing out the dirt. 
 After this process, called " soaking the sheep," has 
 been gone through, they are allowed to stand packed 
 closely together for the purpose of sweating the wool 
 and softening the dirt, when they are once more 
 passed through the water. This time, however, each 
 sheep is thoroughly well washed by each man in suc- 
 cession, until it comes to the tank, where the animal 
 is seized by two men, and turned over and over under 
 the strong head of water issuing from it. It is then 
 allowed to make its way on to the green feed, where, 
 in company of its fellows, it is taken charge of by the 
 shepherd. In about three days' time the sheep are 
 dry, and an oily exudation called the ''yolk," which
 
 84 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 was washed away by the water, lias again risen, soften- 
 im the fibre of the wool and renderinj]^ it more brilliant 
 and heavy. 
 
 The sheep are then brought at night to the wool- 
 shed yards ; as many as possible are packed inside the 
 building, and the rest in convenient yards outside, so 
 that the shearers may not be kept waiting. The hurry 
 which infects every one during the shearing season is 
 one of its main characteristics. The owner is anxious 
 to get the wool off as soon as possible, in order to 
 shorten the knocking about the sheep receive, and get 
 them back to their quiet pasturages, as well also as to 
 get rid of the expense and trouble connected with the 
 shearers. He is further alarmed in case wet weather 
 may come on and delay the proceeding. The shearers 
 wish to get through with this shed in order that they 
 may proceed elsewhere and get another. The shep- 
 herds long to get home to their solitary huts, where 
 they are their own masters, and where their flocks are 
 undisturbed. The storekeeper groans under an in- 
 crease of work, and longs for its close. So the moment 
 the dawn breaks, all hands are at work, and sheep are 
 seized, denuded of their fleece, let go, and others are 
 caught. This goes on until after sunset, with a short 
 intermission of half an hour for breakfast and an hour 
 for dinner. The noise in the shed is a continuous 
 click-click of the shears, accompanying a running fire
 
 WOOL SOETING AND PEESSING. 85 
 
 of rude jests and pitliy yarns from the men, and occa- 
 sional shouts of "tar" from some one who, in his 
 haste, has clipped a portion from the skin of the poor 
 animal along with its coat. Boys run about gathering 
 up the fleeces as they come off, and carrying tar when 
 desired. 
 
 The fleece, gathered carefully with both hands, is 
 conveyed to a long table-screen, and, with a sudden 
 jerk, is flung out at full length. The roller-up, with 
 a rapidity which is the result of long practice, separ- 
 ates the skirtings — i.e., the inferior portions of the wool 
 — rolls up the rest carefully, and the sorter classes it 
 under its description ; a boy then takes it to its par- 
 ticular bin. The wool differs very much in quality, 
 and many various qualities may be found in a flocl^ of 
 the same description. 
 
 As the bins fill, the wool-presser packs the press 
 with each particular kind, and compresses it into a 
 neat bale about 5 feet 6 inches long, by about 2 feet 
 9 inches wide, and the same deep. It is then branded 
 with its owner's name, its description and number, and 
 the date, when it is rolled away and stored for trans- 
 port to market. 
 
 The men, for the most part, wore flannel shirts with 
 short sleeves, their trousers fastened loosely under the 
 knee with a string, and confined round the waist by 
 a handkerchief. Most of them went barefooted, and
 
 86 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 wore little caps made of calico, or had handkercliiefs 
 tied round their lieads ; and many had leather straps 
 buckled round their wrists to strengthen the muscles. 
 They worked hard for their money, which some of 
 them, unfortunately, spent almost as soon as earned. 
 So the routine of work went on for nearly three 
 months. Sheep came and went daily. Sheep were 
 washed and sheep were shorn, the process being 
 occasionally varied by sheep getting lost. This, 
 with a perversity apparently inherent in their na- 
 ture, they managed to do generally on Saturdays, 
 so that Sunday, instead of being a day of rest, was 
 usually as hard a day as any other. The shearers' 
 cook had a very bad time. He had many masters, 
 each of whom had a peculiar taste, which imperatively 
 required satisfying. There were so many faults found 
 with the style of cooking (the true shearer being quite 
 a gourmet in the matter of doughboys and duff), there 
 were so many demands for food and drink at irregular 
 hours, that, notwithstanding the good pay which this 
 functionary gets (he receiving generally a certain sum 
 from each man, besides a subsidy from the owner of 
 the station), two or three tried the office, and either 
 resigned or were dismissed. ^NTo one would take the 
 job. The shearers were getting alarmed. They would 
 have to cook their own food. This was a prospect none 
 of them relished. It was time lost, a waste of mate-
 
 THE SHEARERS COOK. 87 
 
 rial, bad prospect for puddings, and no servant to 
 order or complain about. A negotiation was opened 
 with the washers, some of whom, no doubt, tempted 
 by the high wages, would be glad to undertake the 
 office. The shearers were right. A washer — a dogged, 
 determined -looking man — accepted, and commenced 
 operations. That night, on their return from the shed, 
 each pannikin and knife was laid on the long bark 
 table, the buckets with the tea placed handy, and a 
 huge duff and pieces of boiled beef in tin dishes 
 graced the board. As usual, no sooner had the 
 men taken their places than arose cries of, " I say, 
 cook! do you call this duff?" "This tea isn't 
 sweet enough ! " " Tea's too sweet ! " " Cook ! " 
 " Doctor ! " The doctor quietly made his appearance. 
 Rolling up his sleeves, he marched up to the biggest 
 and strongest of the bullies, and pointing with his 
 strong stump of a forefinger at the pudding on the 
 man's plate, he said, "Now then, mate, is that 'ere 
 duff the right thing?" The battered prize-fighting 
 look of his bullet-head and flattened nose was quite 
 enough. "I ses it's fust-rate," was the reply. "All 
 right," said the cook, walking slowly along the table, 
 his eye glancing fiercely round to find a victim. 
 "Any one of you gents as ain't satisfied can gimme 
 a lesson outside, you know." It was sufficient. A 
 stillness almost supernatural followed. The cook
 
 88 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 afterwards said he couldn't imagine how any one 
 could disagree with such a quiet lot of men. 
 
 The eye now got quite accustomed to the flocks of 
 sheep coming in continually : round, with full fleeces, 
 and panting slowly in the heat, to return bare, leggy, 
 roach - backed - looking objects, covered with shear- 
 marks, and the raddled signs by which each man 
 distinguished his own shearing, with here and there 
 ominous - looking patches of tar covering a gaping 
 wound, — racing gladly towards their accustomed 
 feeding - grounds amongst clouds of dust. 
 
 John had his hands full. His morning work in the 
 store over, he had to attend at the wash-pool, where 
 he took his place amongst the other men in the water, 
 and worked till eveninsr, when he had some hours' 
 heavy duty attending to customers in the store. Even 
 Sundays were seldom days of respite. Sheep lost on 
 Saturday imperatively constrained every one on the 
 head -station to look for them, or a small unshorn 
 portion of sheep had to be shepherded apart, or a 
 bullock had unexpectedly to be got in for killing, or 
 something interfered with the repose so urgently re- 
 quired ; and no one felt better pleased than he did to 
 see the last lot of " monkeys," as the shearers usually 
 denominated sheep, leave the head-station.
 
 89 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A DESPERATE RIDE ON A STRANGE STEED — HORSE-BREAKING. 
 
 The shearing was no sooner over than everything took 
 quite a different complexion. Mr M'Duff started on 
 an expedition to look at some new country away in 
 the far north, which he thought it might be advisable 
 to buy, and stock with his surplus sheep. Stone had 
 also left temporarily, having business, he said,' in 
 Sydney. Only old Graham remained at Cambaranga, 
 with John, and his time was chiefly occupied in visit- 
 ing the different sheep-stations and counting the sheep. 
 This slack season on the station was usually devoted 
 to mustering all the quiet horses on the run, branding 
 up the foals, breaking in the young colts and fillies, 
 and making attempts to get in the wilder mobs on 
 the outskirts of the station. Two horse-breakers were 
 engaged to assist the stockman, and John was nomin- 
 ally in charge of the proceedings. The horse-breakers 
 were slight but clean-limbed active young fellows, hav- 
 ing that peculiar look about them by which Australian-
 
 90 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLA.NI). 
 
 born sons of Europeans are so easily distinguished from 
 people of any otlier country. Both were very quiet 
 and self-possessed in manner, but an experienced eye 
 could detect in a moment the tendency to " flashness " 
 wliich seems inseparable from their occupation. They 
 were well known in the district as " Jack the Native " 
 and his mate Charley ; and no sooner were the pro- 
 ceeds of one job dissipated than a new one was sure 
 to start up on some neighbouring run, notwithstand- 
 ing various reports that got afloat taxing them with 
 " planting " horses,^ and with occasionally taking a few 
 strange ones to a distance, and there surreptitiously 
 disposing of them. 
 
 Two better riders could not be found ; and the 
 Native was always open to " ride anything with hair 
 on it/' as he expressed himself, " for a ten-pound note." 
 
 Indeed, not long before this, when engaged on the 
 Ungahrun run, Mr Fitzgerald had brought some very 
 wild scrn.b cattle into his yard, and amongst them was 
 a savage old scrub bull who had for years baffled all 
 attempts to run him in or destroy him. He had had 
 many a bullet in the most vital places — so said the 
 stockmen on the run ; and although he might disap- 
 pear for six months or so, he invariably turned up 
 again as well and savage as ever. So knowing had 
 he become, that if, in the excursions which he was in 
 
 ^ Hiding horses for the sake of the reward sure to be offered.
 
 A SAVAGE BULL. 91 
 
 the habit of making from his home in the scrubby 
 broken country, down among the quiet herds on the 
 plains, any of the men endeavoured to drive him with 
 a mob to the yards, that instant he stopped, then turn- 
 ing his head towards the nearest scrub, he trotted off 
 with a surly defiant air, the huge hump at the back 
 of his head giving him the appearance of a buffalo. 
 How it happened that he came in at all was quite 
 inexplicable : the other cattle gave the men much 
 trouble, but the bull " went like any old milking cow," 
 as Jack the Native, who was one of the party, after- 
 wards said. 
 
 Of course all hands crowded to look at old " Eazor- 
 back Jack," as he was called, after a particular moun- 
 tain which he usually frequented. Old Eazorback* did 
 not seem to realise what had happened just at first. 
 The contemplative mood which had betrayed him did 
 not pass off until some one attempted to cross the 
 yard. Then the old outlaw stepped out with a low 
 roar, and desperately rushed at the intruder, who 
 bounded lightly on to the cap of the stock-yard, sit- 
 ting on which he addressed, in the calmest manner, a 
 variety of insulting and defamatory personal remarks 
 to the infuriated savage, who, kneeling down, tore the 
 ground with his horns, lashed his sides, and roared in 
 impotent fury a few feet below him. A hat thrown 
 into the yard from the opposite side had scarcely
 
 92 BUSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 fallen, when Eazorback Jack's vigilant ferocious small 
 eyes, which were watching everything, made him 
 aware of the fact. In an instant he was dow^n on it, 
 transfixed it with his horns, and tossed it a dozen 
 times round the yard, leaving it occasionally for a 
 minute to return again and again to repeat the scene. 
 It was now that some one, remembering Jack the 
 Native's favourite boast, asked him how he would like 
 a mount on old Eazorback. " Well," said the Native, 
 " I'll ride him for a ten-pound note." 
 
 " I daresay you would," said the other. " Eope him, 
 haul him up to a fence, leg-rope him, so that he can't 
 stir. I'd do that myself" 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'm game to do," said the Native, 
 quietly : " I'll bet you a £20 note that I ride him 
 without saddle or bridle, loose in the yard." 
 
 " Done ! " shouted the other. " Eemember, if he 
 slings you, you lose the bet." 
 
 "All right," returned Jack; "but if he falls, of 
 course that doesn't count to me as a spill." 
 
 Young Fitzgerald, who was looking on amongst the 
 others, now remarked that he thought it rather too 
 dangerous a joke ; but Jack was determined, and he 
 was allowed to have his own way. First of all, opening 
 the gate of the pound — a small enclosure with several 
 gates leading into other yards — he managed to drive 
 the cattle into it, and separate the bull from the rest.
 
 JACK EIDES THE BULL. 93 
 
 The bull now rushed round the sides of the stronor 
 high pound seeking savagely for some opening. As 
 he came round to the gate leading into the yard in 
 which he had previously been, the Native dropped 
 quickly on his back. The gate was pulled open by 
 one of the men, and the strange pair tore through it. 
 None of the bystanders knew how it was done. So 
 quickly and quietly had it happened, that the first 
 glance revealed the pair flying madly round the yard 
 amid clouds of dust. 
 
 The roars of the terrified brute were perfectly ap- 
 palling, but above them now and then rose the voice 
 of the Native as he shouted to his steed. He was 
 lying on the bull's back, holding a flank of the animal 
 with eacli hand, his long legs pressing the reeking 
 sides of the infuriated brute like a vice, with a foot 
 under each of its shoulders. 
 
 Eound they flew, now plunging wildly in the air, 
 now rushing np against the yard, until Fitzgerald 
 feared that both man and bull would be dashed to 
 pieces. Eunning to the gate, he threw it open, and 
 out flew the ancient scrubber, instinctively making 
 towards his own wild domain, bearing with him the 
 stronged-nerved rider, whose iron sinews bound him 
 as firmly to his grim charger as did the cords Mazeppa 
 to the untamed steed. 
 
 Several men jumped on horses, which still remained
 
 94 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 saddled and hung up to the fence, and pursued the 
 fast disappearing pair. The bull's fierce rage had now 
 almost expended itself, for when they came up with 
 the chase, Jack was sitting up, using his spurs freely, 
 and chatted gaily with his mates ; but how to get him 
 off was the question. 
 
 Old Kazorback paid no attention to their efforts to 
 make him turn towards the yard. Steadily, his head 
 bent low, his chest heaving, his laboured breathing 
 sounding like choking sobs, he pursued his plodding 
 path ; and Fitzgerald, who now came up, began to fear 
 that he "would asfain res^ain his wind and elude them 
 yet. Shouting to Jack, he desired him to throw him- 
 self off, in order that he might shoot the brute, with 
 which intention he had brought with him a breech- 
 loading carbine. 
 
 "No, no," cried the bull-tamer; "I should lose my 
 bet ! Shoot him ; never mind me — I'll chance it ! " 
 
 Luckily at this moment old Eazorback made a rush 
 at one of the other stockmen who had ventured too 
 near him, stumbled, and rolled with his rider in the 
 dust. A fallen log came in very handy for the Native 
 now. He rolled himself nimbly under it, and soon 
 afterwards his namesake's career was ended by a 
 couple of Snider bullets behind the shoulder. 
 
 Such was the man who, with his mate, undertook 
 the job of mustering and breaking in the Cambaranga
 
 A LESSON IN HOESE-BEEAKING. 95 
 
 horses. These men seemed to find a pleasure in mount- 
 ing the worst horses on the run, and it appeared to 
 give them no trouble to hold on. They led a much 
 pleasanter life than the other men employed on the 
 station did. It involved no hard work or dirt, while 
 their character for pluck caused them to be treated 
 with a certain degree of respect. 
 
 John was astonished to find how suddenly a wild 
 untamed colt in their hands acquired a totally differ- 
 ent nature ; and the Native, who had taken rather a 
 fancy to him, offered to teach him to break horses in, 
 provided he would ride, or at least mount, any horses 
 he might desire him to back. Our hero agreed, well 
 pleased, and his spare time for a month or two M^as 
 passed in the Native's company. The morning alter 
 the bargain, on his going up to the yard, he found the 
 Native and his mate drafting out some horses from a 
 mob they had got in the day before. 
 
 " Ah," said Long Jack, " you're just in time. Charley 
 and I are going to start breaking this mob in, and I'll 
 give you a lesson. Charley is going to take those two 
 in hand, and I'll take the black colt here and the 
 chestnut mare." 
 
 The horses in question were each in turn driven 
 through various yards until they came to the " crush 
 lane." This is a lane wide enough to permit only a 
 single bullock or horse at a time to make his way up
 
 96 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 it. It is used for branding full-grown cattle, and the 
 fences are made of the strongest timber, and are very 
 high. Generally at the end of it there is a bail for 
 the purpose of spaying. Up this lane, therefore, the 
 colt was urged, despite of his attempts to the contrary, 
 until he came to the end. Two or three rails were 
 then fastened behind him, to prevent his making his 
 way backwards out of his close prison. The fences 
 touched his sides. In front of him the end of the lane 
 barred his progress. 
 
 Wildly the terrified animal reared and plunged in 
 the confined space when he saw beside him, for the 
 first time, a human being. The beautiful eye, glitter- 
 ing with fear, dilated, and every nerve trembled and 
 shook, while every unexpected motion produced a 
 plunge and kick. With rapid and practised hands 
 Jack and Charley threw the surcingle round the now 
 sweat-dripping body, hooked up the end of it under 
 the belly by means of a bent wire, and had it buckled 
 in a brace of shakes. Standing high on the fence, 
 holding the long sweeping tail, tangled in a huge 
 bush-knot in one hand, Jack put the crupper round 
 the butt and buckled it with the other, explaining to 
 John that in putting the crupper on any horse not 
 particularly quiet, it was the safest plan to hold the 
 tail up until the completion of the operation. A 
 strongly plaited greenhide - halter was now slipped
 
 A LESSON IN HORSE-BEEAKING. 97 
 
 over the head, after which the headstall with the 
 large breaking -in bit followed. Side reins were at- 
 tached to the headstall, and loosely buckled to the 
 surcingle, which was once more tightened up. A 
 gate which formed at this place one side of the crush 
 fence, was thrown open, and the now tackled colt 
 allowed to escape into an adjoining yard. 
 
 This it signalised by putting its head down to the 
 ground, in close proximity to its fore -feet, and in 
 making, with humped back, a series of active vicious 
 jumps or springs, varied occasionally by a lash-out of 
 its hind-legs, winding up by galloping round the yard, 
 and kicking at the halter which trailed alongside it. 
 
 "That's the way, my little boy," said the Native. 
 "That fellow will turn out a nice horse, I'll bet. I 
 like to see them have their fling when first they get 
 into the yard — it shows they ain't sulky, you know. 
 Now, you watch the chestnut mare. She's a sulky 
 devil. She's too old, any way, to break in. Shell 
 never be any good." 
 
 The chestnut, a handsome mare about sixteen 
 hands high, now underwent the same process ; but 
 with the exception of a vicious kick or two when 
 being crupped, she showed no sign of fright. Her 
 head she held so low that it was almost impossible 
 to put the bridle on. Indeed, so immovable was she 
 when tackled, that the Native, climbing up the rails, 
 
 VOL. L G
 
 98 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 coolly stood on her back and performed various circus 
 antics. 
 
 " Now," he said, getting down, " let her out." 
 
 The gate was accordingly thrown open, when the 
 mare walked out, and moved away to a corner of the 
 yard, where she stood quietly, bearing all the weight of 
 her rather coarse-looking head upon the bearing-reins. 
 
 " That's a bad lot," said Long Jack, decisively. 
 
 His mate went through a similar process with his 
 two, which he drafted into separate yards. 
 
 The black colt was now driven into a small yard by 
 himself, round which he galloped unceasingly. 
 
 "Now," said the horse-breaker, "just sit on the 
 fence there and you'll see me make that colt come 
 up to me when I call him, and follow me all round 
 the yard before long." 
 
 John, who had heard of this, but had never seen 
 it practised, did as he was bid. 
 
 With his usual calm, self-possessed manner. Jack 
 let himself quietly through the gate and stood in the 
 middle of the yard, causing the young horse to fly 
 round faster than ever. This the breaker permitted 
 it to do until want of breath compelled it to move 
 at a slower pace. Its hind-feet treading frequently 
 upon the trailing halter, and consequently jerking the 
 head back sharply as often as it did so, also contributed 
 greatly to this result.
 
 A LESSON IN HORSE-BREAKING. 99 
 
 "Why don't you tie up the halter?" said young 
 West. 
 
 "Well, I could make him come up just as well 
 without it," said the Native; "but, you see," he ex- 
 plained, " it's a saving of time in many ways. First, 
 it is handy to get hold of him by — for the halter is so 
 long that I can reach it without coming close to his 
 legs, and can thus always keep his head to me, which 
 is the part I must first get at in order to let him smell 
 me, and be sure that I won't hurt him ; and secondly, 
 it is good for him to tread upon it. It teaches him, 
 by jerking his head, to give way to a pull on the 
 bridle. It is the first step in teaching him to lead. 
 
 He finds that by slackening his head he eases the 
 
 • 
 
 pain he would otherwise suffer. Now I'll take up the 
 end of the halter and make the colt come up." 
 
 So saying, he lifted the plaited hide-rope and pulled 
 sharply on it, causing the colt, whose nose was now 
 rather tender, to stop, on which, getting in front of 
 him, he made him go round the opposite way. This 
 he continued doing for about half an hour, by which 
 time the colt had become so far accustomed to control 
 as to turn and move in the other direction upon see- 
 ing his master's uplifted hand and hearing the com- 
 manding way. 
 
 Now the Native confined the horse's movements in 
 either direction to a few paces, stopping him almost
 
 100 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 as soon as he had begun to move, touching him with 
 the whip in an irritating manner, but without severity, 
 whenever the animal presented any portion of the 
 body but his head to him. The colt now learned 
 that upon facing his enemy all irritation and annoy- 
 ance ceased, he was addressed in soothing terms, the 
 jerking of the halter was discontinued, and also the 
 motions of the whip ; but that upon endeavouring to 
 turn away, or gallop round the yard, a severe jerk 
 of the nose, a cut of the whip, and an angry raising 
 of the voice invariably followed. The consequence 
 naturally was, that he preferred standing watching 
 the being who exercised such power over him. But 
 although this compliance was rewarded by a cessation 
 of his trouble for a short time, he was not allowed to 
 enjoy rest for a longer period than about a minute — 
 merely enough to mark approval. The Native irri- 
 tated him to move afresh, merely to stop him again, 
 at the same time pulling gently but steadily on the 
 halter, repeating the process over and over again until 
 the perplexed animal made a step in his direction, 
 upon which the voice again became soothing, all 
 motion ceased, and the animal began to perceive 
 that in the neighbourhood of the man was peace 
 and rest. Again and again the same operation was 
 gone through, until suddenly the colt trotted up and 
 stood trembling within a foot of its now acknowledged
 
 A LESSON IN HORSE-BREAKING. 101 
 
 master, who, gently extending his hand, allowed him 
 to smell it all over. 
 
 The same thing was repeated frequently, each time 
 the breaker succeeding in getting a little more into 
 the confidence of the horse, which seemed unwilling 
 to leave the proximity of the man. Several variations 
 of the procedure were now executed. Eetiring a little 
 distance, the Native called on his steed to " come up 
 here." The unaccustomed distance producing some 
 disinclination to comply, a shout, accompanied by a 
 rapid motion of the whip, again compelled obedience, 
 when the same method of reward restored the dumb 
 treaty which had been concluded, of petting for obe- 
 dience, and punishment for disregard of orders. Little 
 by little the Native succeeded in gently stroking the 
 animal over the head and neck on both sides, sometimes 
 startling the creature slightly by touching a new part, 
 but succeeding in restoring his faith by patiently com- 
 mencing afresh, and repeating every movement anew, 
 taking care to gain ground as he did so. Indeed such 
 a glamour had he apparently cast over the colt, that, 
 walk where he liked, to any part of the yard, the 
 kindly-natured though high-spirited creature followed, 
 and stood patiently waiting, champing the large break- 
 ing-bit in its tender gums, and flinging snow-white 
 flakes of foam over its noble breast. 
 
 The chestnut mare was now taken in hand, but
 
 102 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 with a very different result. She proved, as Jack 
 the Native had foretold, •anusually sulky - tempered. 
 She could scarcely be got to move round the yard 
 unless stimulated to do so by a pretty free use of 
 the whip ; nor would she show any signs of giving in 
 by the time the men generally went to dinner. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the men were again at work, 
 and John could not help admiring the steady patience 
 and gentleness by means of which the Native gradu- 
 ally acquired such an ascendancy over the colt as to 
 be able to handle him all over on both sides, and lift 
 his feet all round. 
 
 "There is nothing," he said, "like handling; you 
 can't give them too much of it. All depends on your 
 making a horse know he has nothing to fear from 
 you. Now I could have tied this fellow's leg up, 
 saddled and ridden him this morning, but ten to 
 one he would have bucked all the time, and been 
 bad to catch, hard to mount, and unsafe for all but 
 tip-top riders ever after. Now if he is treated with 
 steady consistent kindness and firmness, and does 
 not get frightened, he will turn out a good quiet 
 horse. He may perhaps buck a little at first, or 
 after a long spell, but nothiDg to speak of Every- 
 thing depends on handling. I shall ride that fellow 
 to-morrow evening. Of course, if it paid me to spend 
 longer time over him I could make him so quiet that
 
 A LESSON IN HOESE-BEEAKING. 103 
 
 he never would buck at all ; but I can't afford to keep 
 him on tackling longer than two days. Horses in 
 England and other parts would buck just as ours do 
 if they were treated in the same way; but there 
 colts are handled from the time almost when they 
 are foaled. I have heard young new chums from 
 England, who sat on their horses like so many bags 
 of flour, blowing how they used to ride the unbroken 
 colts at home. I never see them getting on our un- 
 broken colts — not to say but that some of them turn 
 out pretty good riders after a bit. We'll go now and 
 see how the mare is getting on." 
 
 But the mare maintained her sulky, vicious stub- 
 bornness, and a couple of hours were vainly spent in 
 trying to make her give in. She allowed herself to be 
 rubbed over with a long stick, kicking occasionally as 
 it touched her rump, but obstinately keeping her head 
 turned from her breaker. It was getting late, and the 
 Native, waxing impatient, thought he would try what 
 effect the whip would have on her. 
 
 So flicking first at one hind-leg, then at another, he 
 succeeded, after some savage kicks, in getting her to 
 face him. But his rewards were not acceptable. She 
 turned because she escaped the whip ; but her sulky 
 nature would not allow her to give in altogether. 
 Anxious to get her right before dark, and feeling sure 
 that she would soon come up after facing him, Long
 
 104 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Jack gave her another cut or two inside the knee. 
 She came this time, but not as he expected. Throw- 
 ing her ears back, she rushed fiercely at her tormentor, 
 open-mouthed, and struck furiously at him with her 
 fore-feet. Indeed, nothing but the whip-handle, which 
 he held crosswise in front of him, could have pre- 
 vented his being knocked down and badly hurt ; as 
 it was, she drove him backwards through the gate of 
 the yard, which luckily chanced to be a little ajar. 
 Jack instantly returned ; but no sooner had he en- 
 tered than she once more charged savagely at him. 
 This time he was prepared, and met her with a sharp 
 blow on the nose, stepping, at the same time, quickly 
 on one side. Darkness coming on, the horse-breaker 
 resolved to let her go that night ; so, driving her up 
 the lane where he had tackled her in the morning, he 
 took off the breaking-in harness and turned her into 
 the paddock. Very differently did the colt behave. 
 Coming up, he rubbed his head gently on his trainer's 
 shoulder, allowed him to take off the crupper, sur- 
 cingle, and head-gear, suffered it to be thrown over his 
 back carelessly, and followed him to the slip panel 
 of the paddock, trotting off rejoicingly to find his 
 mates. 
 
 " Well," said the Native, " I've seen a good many 
 horses, but I never saw such a determined sulky devil 
 as that mare in my life. She never will be any good.
 
 A LESSON IN HOESE-BREAKING. 105 
 
 I knew it as soon as I saw her. However, we'll try 
 what we can do with her in the morning." 
 
 They now went to look at the horses Charley had 
 charge of, and found they were both as quiet as the 
 black colt. 
 
 " You see," said Jack to our hero, '' these two are all 
 right. I scarcely ever came across a horse that this 
 style of breaking wouldn't suit, provided he hadn't 
 been humbugged before ; and the curious part is, that 
 the higher -spirited the horse is, the sooner he gets to 
 understand you. The wildest generally become the 
 soonest tame."
 
 106 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 •A 
 
 HOKSE-BREAKING — RUNNING IN THE YELLOW MOB. 
 
 Next morning the blackboy, whose business it was to 
 collect and yard all the horses that happened to be in 
 the paddock, reported that one of them was lying dead 
 in a small water-hole. On going down to the spot 
 with his tutor the horse-breaker, John found it to be 
 the chestnut mare which had given so much trouble 
 the day before. She was lying in a shallow pool of 
 water not more than eighteen inches in depth, with 
 her head completely immersed. They had her dragged 
 out, and examined her carefully, but could discover 
 no injury which would account for her decease. Jack 
 the Native declared that she had drowned herself 
 deliberately, and related several curious instances 
 concerning sulky horses which had come under his 
 own notice, some of which John West heard confirmed 
 by other experienced bushmen. However, no one 
 seemed to regret her loss, Old Graham, who had a 
 detestation of unruly horses, remarking that "it was 
 
 \
 
 HOESE-BEEAKING. 107 
 
 a good job ; it would save some fellow's neck." A 
 new two-year-old supplied her place in the yard, and 
 soon succumbed to the treatment she had resisted 
 unto death. 
 
 This morning the black colt, after having gone 
 through his lesson of the previous day several times, 
 was fastened to one of the rails of the yard by the 
 halter. Finding himself fast, he endeavoured to break 
 the rope by straining on it with all his force. In vain : 
 he only compressed his jaws with each struggle. The 
 greenhide - halter was strong enough to hold a bull. 
 He reared and fought with his feet in the air, the 
 halter being judiciously slackened to allow him room, 
 and again tightened on his coming down. Gradually 
 he found that, by coming close to the fence, the rppe 
 relaxed and relieved his aching jaws, upon which 
 he gave over struggling to free himself, and remained 
 still. 
 
 " Now," said the Native, " after a lesson or two of 
 that sort, you'll never break a bridle, my boy." 
 
 All horses, he explained to John, should be thus 
 treated when broken in. They learn easily a lesson 
 then which saves infinite annoyance afterwards. The 
 black colt was now driven about the yard in reins in 
 order to mouth him until he understood how to turn 
 to the right or left when desired, after which, another 
 quiet old horse having been procured and mounted by
 
 108 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Long Jack, he was taught to lead alongside. This he 
 picked up in the course of half an hour. The breaker 
 then rode into the paddack, leading him, walked, 
 trotted, galloped, took him round the buildings of the 
 house, and back to the yard again. In the course of 
 the evening the colt's breaking -in tackle was ex- 
 changed for a riding - saddle and bridle ; he then 
 received a short lesson in leading on foot, which his 
 previous experience with the trailing halter had pre- 
 pared him for, and all that now remained to do was 
 the mounting. This was accomplished in the same 
 cautious gentle manner which had distinguished his 
 previous education. First the saddle received a few 
 pats, then it was moved backwards and forwards ; 
 then a foot was quietly inserted in the stirrup, and 
 weight put on it, the colt being made to stand still ; 
 then the right leg was slipped over, and the rider sat 
 on the back which never before had felt a burden. 
 Dismounting, the same proceeding was repeated again 
 and again. John was now made to mount the other 
 horse, and riding side by side the pair moved round 
 the yard. The colt broke into a jog once or twice, 
 sawing a little at the bit and shaking his head, but 
 one steady firm hand kept him to the walk, while 
 the other caressed him soothingly, his rider addressing 
 him in various terms of horsey endearment. This 
 lesson over, he was again allowed his freedom in the
 
 HORSE-BREAKING. 109 
 
 paddock. Charley's horses were both pretty quiet 
 also. One of them gave a few bucks, but went 
 steadily afterwards. 
 
 Next day John found himself called upon to accom- 
 pany the breaker when riding the young horses ; and 
 with the exception of a sudden kick or buck when 
 startled, they behaved very quietly. The men seemed 
 to have a habit of sticking tight to the saddle intui- 
 tively when the animal they bestrode gave the slight- 
 est indication of restiveness. The saddles they rode 
 on were very well adapted for breaking-in purposes 
 and John did not recollect ever having seen any of the 
 kind in England. They were made of what is called 
 " bag leather," with the rough inside of the skin out- 
 wards. They were well cut back on the pommel, to 
 allow the withers of any horse plenty of room. The 
 knee-pads were very large and strong, covering the 
 front of the knee completely ; and a pad behind the 
 thigh fixed the leg as in a vice. The pommel was 
 also furnished with strong iron dees driven firmly into 
 the woodwork, for the purpose of holding the straps 
 necessary for fixing on a swag. The Native explained 
 that second or third rate riders very often made up a 
 bundle of twigs, rolled up in a piece of cloth, which 
 they bound across the saddle by these straps. This 
 kid, as it is called, pressing firmly on the front of the 
 legs, assists immensely in keeping a rider down in the
 
 no BUSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 saddle when a horse bucks heavily, but is at the same 
 time dangerous. The easy grace with which the Native 
 and his mate sat on their horses was a source of 
 constant admiration to the young Englishman. The 
 inimitable elegance which constant practice had lent 
 to their slender, well-knit figures characterised every 
 motion, especially that of mounting. 
 
 John soon learned sufficient of the breaking- in 
 business to enable him to practise it successfully ; and 
 stimulated by the Native's praises, he hardened his 
 heart and mounted several of the young horses for the 
 first time. Gradually gaining confidence, he tried his 
 hand at sticking to some of the more notorious voung- 
 sters, not without receiving many tumbles in the soft 
 sand of the creek, whither he prudently conducted 
 such animals as were of a lively disposition. 
 
 And now an attempt was about to be made to run 
 in a mob of horses whose favourite pastures were in a 
 remote part of the run. This particular herd of wild 
 horses had amongst its numbers many fine animals 
 which had escaped from servitude, and for which a 
 standing reward existed. They had adopted all the 
 characteristics of their wild brethren, and were quite 
 as wary and watchful, and equally hard to turn in 
 the direction of the yards, when they set their faces 
 towards their mountain fastnesses. It was ruled by 
 a stallion of unusual size and beauty, of a peculiar
 
 RUNNING IN THE YELLOW MOB. Ill 
 
 golden yellow colour, with waving long black mane 
 and tail. He was a thorough-bred horse, son of a horse 
 imported at great expense from England, out of an 
 imported mare of equal breeding, and when a colt of 
 about eighteen months, had by great negligence been 
 allowed to wander from Bindarobina, the station of 
 the United Australian Pastoral Company. For several 
 years his whereabouts remained undiscovered, until a 
 solitary stockman, tracking some cattle into this un- 
 frequented spot, dropped across the tracks of a herd 
 of horses, round a small water-hole at which he had 
 stopped to water his own nag. Following up the 
 fresh tracks for about half a mile, the stockman came 
 suddenly upon a mob of nearly thirty horses, feeding 
 up a pleasant valley, covered with delicate yornig 
 burnt feed. A loud snort from one of the mares 
 announced their discovery of him; and the yellow 
 steed, galloping round his harem, drew them off to 
 a little distance, and advanced with proudly arched 
 neck and floating tail at a high - stepping trot, to 
 examine the intruder. One by one the rest trotted up, 
 and caracoled in a circle, shaking their heads, plung- 
 ing and kicking playfully at each other. Most of the 
 foals and young horses were of the same rich golden 
 yellow as their sire, and the beauty of their appear- 
 ance plainly betokened noble pedigree on the father's 
 side at least. A movement on the part of the man
 
 112 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 sent the whole mob flying through the forest glades. 
 Several years had passed since then, and many at- 
 tempts had been unsuccessfully made to get in the 
 yellow mob as they were called, but in vain. Whether 
 it was that those who first attempted it were inferior 
 riders, or poorly mounted, or mismanaged matters, 
 none had ever succeeded in capturing the fleet mon- 
 arch of the woods. The frequent attempts to run 
 in these animals had served to make them unusually 
 alert, and the chief difficulty lay in keeping them 
 together, it being their custom to split in every 
 direction .when pursued. Most men who had tried 
 their luck with the yellow mob came home unsuccess- 
 ful, with horses knocked up, or perhaps ruined for 
 life ; and those thought themselves fortunate who 
 managed to cut out, and bring home, a few mares and 
 foals, — unable to keep up with the better-winded and 
 lighter-heeled steeds. The Native and Charley had 
 heard many tales of these outlaws during their resi- 
 dence in the neighbourhood, but had never had an 
 opportunity before of measuring themselves with the 
 mob, and both ardently longed to attempt the diffi- 
 cult and arduous undertaking. 
 
 The day came, and mounted on the picked horses 
 of the Cambaranga station, the Native and his mate, 
 accompanied by the stockman and our friend John, 
 started to find, and if possible capture, the yellow mob.
 
 RUNNING IN THE YELLOW MOB. 113 
 
 John, who was in high spirits, determined that at all 
 events no one should have it to say that he was afraid 
 to ride, and resented highly Charley's depreciatory re- 
 mark that "he wouldn't see the way they went." 
 
 The little party followed a narrow track, which, 
 winding through some scrubby thick country, led 
 them over a small range into the watershed of the 
 creek, on the head of which the horses were usually 
 found. The creek was at this time of the year merely 
 a succession of huge water-holes and beds of sand. 
 The country on its banks for some miles was of an open, 
 ridgy, lightly timbered description ; then, as the party 
 pushed further up, it took a different character, — the 
 soil became poor — a mixture of pipeclay and sand ; 
 the trees grew tall and straight, while thick under- 
 wood and saplings here and there gave a gloomy look 
 to the whole. Further on the creek grew more con- 
 fined. Eidges came close into it of a stony, broken, 
 difficult nature, and at last, after about four or five 
 miles of this kind of travelling, the country opened 
 out again. Sandy, apple-tree flats, and iron-bark 
 ridges, lined the creek here on either side ; while at 
 no great distance ranges bounded the view. 
 
 All now became interested in inspecting the ground. 
 Horses' tracks, though old, could be plainly seen every- 
 where. A mile or two was traversed cautiously, the 
 stockman assuring the party that if " Yellowman got 
 
 . VOL. L H
 
 114 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 wind of them that night, they might say good-bye to 
 their chance of getting a run out of him." Accord- 
 ingly a convenient spot was chosen for a camp, the 
 horses were hobbled and turned out, and matters dis- 
 cussed with the assistance of the pot and the pipe. 
 
 John thoroughly enjoyed this camping out. The 
 red sun was sinking behind the dark mountain-range, 
 throwing a warm glow over the western sky. Not a 
 cloud was visible. The horses revelled in good sweet 
 pasture. The fire was lit and pots boiled merrily, 
 while overhead the laughing-jackasses chorussed out 
 in discordant union their strange greeting to the even- 
 ing. Clouds of white cockatoos flew screeching one 
 after another in the same direction, like flakes of snow 
 upon the sky; gentle little squatter pigeons cooed 
 lovingly in answer to their mates on all sides, or flew 
 rapidly up to a branch of one of the old trees which 
 overhung the pool at which they were accustomed 
 to slake their thirst. Sometimes a kangaroo would 
 come down with measured thud, thud, and drink, and 
 then return without noticing the human beings ; or 
 seeing them, would swerve suddenly to one side, 
 and disappear with flying leaps. Certainly it was 
 the elysium of rest. The recumbent position gave 
 thorough ease after the long ride, and the friendly 
 pipe produced a soothing effect on minds free from 
 care, which those only know who have experienced it.
 
 EUNNING IN THE YELLOW MOB. 115 
 
 How little sufficed them ! — a scanty supper of beef 
 and bread, with a quart of tea ; a thin half-blanket 
 apiece under them, and their saddles for pillows. 
 John would not have bartered his peace of mind to 
 be a king. 
 
 Presently Charley commenced a yarn, which drew 
 another from the stockman, followed in turn by the 
 Native, after which the entire party dropped off to 
 sleep. 
 
 John had not, as it appeared to him, slept more 
 than a few minutes, when he was awakened by one 
 of the others, who, calling to him to get his bridle, 
 started off towards where the horses had been feeding. 
 Hastily snatching it from the ground, he followed, and 
 soon came upon Charley, who told him that a wild 
 mob had come down to their horses, and they feared 
 that their nags might be taken away by them. Now 
 they overtook Jack and the stockman, who had suc- 
 ceeded in catching their animals, and stopping the 
 others, which were hastily bridled. John had not got 
 the sleep quite out of his eyes, but soon the noise of 
 many hoofs awakened him completely. 
 
 In the clear starlit night he saw plainly a dark mass 
 circling rapidly round them, while the tramp of the 
 wild squadron sounded like thunder. Suddenly there 
 was a pause, then came a loud fierce snort like a trum- 
 pet-blast, then another short interval of silence. Once
 
 116 BUSII-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 more the angry defiance broke upon the quiet night, 
 then a rush — a breaking of saplings, the galloping of 
 many feet — becoming fainter and fainter until lost in 
 the distance. Sleep was now out of the question. 
 The Southern Cross sinking to rest betokened that the 
 night had almost passed. Soon the bright morning- 
 star ushered in the calm sweet dawn. A few birds 
 began to whistle. The laughing -jackasses simulta- 
 neously unite once more in offering their grateful but 
 unearthly hymn of praise. Ear down the creek, on 
 one of the river-oaks which grow in its bed, a swamp- 
 pheasant utters its rapid coo-coo-coo-coo- coo-coo-cook. 
 Once more the cockatoos fly screeching across the sky 
 towards their feeding-ground beside a distant stream. 
 A huge crow, with a knowledge of their whereabouts 
 truly supernatural, flies up and alights heavily on a 
 branch above their heads, with a loud hoarse caw of 
 satisfaction, echoed a moment afterwards by his mate. 
 And now the glorious southern sun arises above the 
 horizon. The air resounds with the joyous melody of 
 birds, among which is heard clearly the rich full note 
 of the organ magpie. 
 
 A hasty breakfast is soon over, pipes are lighted, 
 horses saddled, and the party proceed on their search. 
 How exhilarating is the morning sweetness ! a bril- 
 liant fresh beauty pervades everything, — the leaves 
 the flowers, the grass, glisten with dew. As they
 
 eunninCt in the yellow mob. 117 
 
 cross the creek the horses stand with their fetlocks 
 in the clear limpid water and sip it luxuriously, now 
 and then raising their heads to look about them with 
 their mouths full, a little stream escaping from their 
 lips where the bit parts them. Now they follow the 
 tracks of their midnight visitors. Occasionally they 
 pass in close proximity to some old -man kangaroo, 
 who, surrounded by his does, sits upright watching 
 the small party as they go by, until, reassured by the 
 gradually increasing distance, he again drops on all- 
 fours, and slowly hops from one sweet patch of feed- 
 ing-ground to another, interrupting his breakfast now 
 and then to scratch himself with one of his short 
 human-like arms, much after the manner of a monkey. 
 Frequently they come to a bare patch of ground under 
 a few shady trees, with horse-tracks more or less fresh, 
 and heaps of dung. 
 
 " Horse - camp," whispers the stockman to John. 
 "We may come on them any minute now." 
 
 John's heart flutters with the excitement caused 
 by the stealthy approach, and the knowledge that 
 the first glimpse will send them all away at a wild 
 racing pace. The others take things more coolly. 
 !N"ow and then one gets down to examine a track 
 which puzzles him. Now the tracks split and look 
 as if going in all directions. At this moment Charley, 
 who is leading, stops short, and holds his head in a
 
 118 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 listening attitude, lifting his hand as if enjoining 
 caution. 
 
 All stop, and standing in their stirrups, crane their 
 necks to discover the mob they are in search of, — 
 but a patch of scrub lies before them. As they cau- 
 tiously creep up to Charley, he whispers that he heard 
 a foal whinnying not far in advance. It is fortunate 
 that they are to leeward of the mob. They all alight 
 and settle their saddle-cloths, tighten their girths and 
 belts, pull the chin-straps of their cabbage-tree hats 
 down, and mounting, move towards the scrub. For 
 one moment John caught sight of a mob of horses, 
 some black, a few bays, a grey or two, and a number 
 of yellow or golden chestnut hue, — the most pro- 
 minent figure, however, being a noble up -standing 
 yellow horse, with a rich golden tint lighting up the 
 otherwise rather ugly colour. 
 
 He stood a few yards nearer to them than the rest, 
 gazing with uplifted head. Then seemingly compre- 
 hending what they wanted, he snorted and dashed 
 off furiously. There was a confused noise, a few 
 neighs from mares and foals, a huge cloud of dust, 
 a rapid trampling, and John found himself galloping 
 close to a number of mares and foals, streaming in a 
 long line after a cloud of dust in the distance. John 
 now realised what Charley meant by saying he would 
 never see the way they went ; but pushing his horse
 
 RUNNING IN THE YELLOW MOB. 119 
 
 to its best, he flew on, hoping to overtake his com- 
 panions. The mares and foals broke behind him in 
 various directions, but still he pushed on ; now some 
 broken-looking gullies with huge rocks rose in front, 
 and dashing down them at the imminent risk of his 
 neck, he found still worse before him. This was 
 rather different to sailing over the open level country. 
 Here he was stuck at these gullies, while no doubt his 
 companions were straining every nerve in pursuit of 
 the famous Yellowman. Scrambling sometimes on 
 foot, sometimes on horseback, he came at last to a 
 standstill, and recognised all his efforts as useless. He 
 was clearly not destined to be the capturer of any of 
 that wild lot. 
 
 Turning his horse's head, he followed, not without 
 a good deal of trouble, the broken gully to its junction 
 with the creek, coming upon the tracks of a mob of 
 horses heading down it as he did so. Disgusted and 
 ashamed of his failure, John pushed on with hopes 
 of not getting in very much behind the others. As 
 he passed through the thick country on the banks of 
 the creek, following as much as possible the tracks of 
 the horses, he came to a spot where the broken and 
 bent saplings gave evidence of their furious speed ; 
 and on the ground he was shocked to see a man lying. 
 Dismounting hastily, he found it to be the stockman, 
 who had met with a disaster amongst the thick timber.
 
 120 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Eecognising John, he faintly whispered " Water." 
 John procured some in his quart-pot, which the poor 
 fellow eagerly swallowed, and coming round a little, 
 with difficulty gave him to understand that he had 
 struck against a large bough, which had knocked him 
 off his horse, and he thought had smashed in his chest. 
 Getting some more water, and propping his head up 
 comfortably, John left him, promising to bring the 
 buggy for him ; and pushing his horse along at a 
 gallop, soon reached the range dividing the creek 
 from that on which the station stood. 
 
 As he turned round a patch of scrub he fell in with 
 about a dozen horses coming towards him, and by 
 their knocked-up, draggled appearance, guessed them 
 to be part of the mob his companions had followed. 
 Something had occurred to prevent them being yarded, 
 which gave him a chance to distinguish himself, and 
 redeem his failure. Shouting at them, and cracking 
 his whip, he found little difficulty in heading the 
 jaded animals towards home. His own horse was 
 comparatively fresh, and he had nearly brought 
 them in sight of the yard, when Charley came up, 
 overjoyed to find that West had turned up in the very 
 nick of time. The horses were now securely yarded, and 
 to John's intense delight and pride he found that the 
 Native had run in the yellow stallion. Singling out 
 from the mob, of which he was the leader, the power-
 
 RUNNING IN THE YELLOW MOB. 121 
 
 ful thorough-bred had stretched himself to his utmost, 
 as he raced along, followed closely by the hawk-eyed 
 active Native, on a steed whose Arab sire had be- 
 queathed to him an iron-hearted stoutness and en- 
 durance which a Bedouin might have gloried in. 
 
 Alas, Yellowman ! the soft, young burnt feed thy 
 soul loved is now telling against thee. Still, with 
 reeking flanks and sobbing breast, over gullies, creeks, 
 and through scrub, the noble animal carried his wearied 
 body, the pure blood sustaining the fearful pace, his 
 wily pursuer edging him nearer and nearer home. A 
 few miles more and a mob of quiet mares and foals 
 are fallen in with, and surrounded by them, the con- 
 quered wild steed entered the yard and became a 
 prisoner. It was at this moment that Charley, whose 
 horse had knocked up with him within a mile of the 
 station, made his appearance. 
 
 Hastily catching the horse which the unlucky stock- 
 man had ridden, and which had galloped in with 
 the others, he started back to try and overtake the 
 horses he had been compelled to let go, when he met 
 our hero bringing them in. 
 
 No sooner was the accident made known than the 
 greatest sympathy prevailed among all the station 
 hands. One started at once for the nearest doctor, 
 some seventy miles away, while the others busied 
 themselves in harnessing horses to the buggy, and
 
 122 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 in getting it made comfortable for the sufferer, and 
 starting back to the place where he lay. They re- 
 turned late at night, bringing the man with them. 
 A large poultice of marsh - mallows had been pre- 
 pared, which was applied at once, and afforded much 
 relief. This simple remedy was used until the arrival 
 of the doctor next morning, he having ridden hard 
 all night ; and under his skilful treatment the poor 
 fellow progressed rapidly, and eventually recovered, 
 although a deep indentation in his chest showed how 
 severe the accident had been.
 
 123 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 A HARLEQUINADE — BETYAMMO AND THE GRAYS. 
 
 The news of the capture of the yellow stallion and 
 some of his mob soon got about the district, and in- 
 duced a good many to visit Cambaranga from various 
 motives. Some there were who owned horses in the 
 mob. or who believed, from descriptions given of 
 horses seen amongst the wild ones, that they did ; 
 and there were others who were ready to claim any 
 horse for whom no owner could be found. 
 
 Among the the former was young Mr Pitzgerald, 
 from Ungahrun station, a tall, fine -looking young 
 fellow, of whom John had heard Euth speak as a 
 kind friend of her childhood. A short, glossy, black 
 beard and moustache added much to the manliness 
 of his honest open face. Living chiefly in the bush, 
 away from the gaieties and temptations of town, he 
 had retained the simple open frankness of manner 
 and cheery nature which had always made him pop- 
 ular in his neighbourhood. Always ready, as he was.
 
 124 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 to afford hospitality and do a poor man a good turn, 
 the working classes spoke well of him ; while his skill 
 as a horseman, and his intimate knowledge of bush- 
 manship, together with the influence he possessed as 
 the son of a large proprietor, secured the goodwill and 
 respect of all, both rich and poor, in his district. 
 
 Old Graham was not at home, so having hung his 
 horse up to the railings of the fence, Fitzgerald walked 
 up to the stock-yard, where he met our hero, to whom 
 he introduced himself, telling his business in a few 
 words. 
 
 A number of men were gathered round the yards, 
 in which were still the captured horses. The yellow 
 horse stood by himself in a small high yard, surrounded 
 by other divisions of fencing. 
 
 The dry white prespiration dimmed his golden sides; 
 the want of food and water had tucked up his belly; 
 his huge tail, draggled with sweat and dirt, and matted 
 in great bush knots, swept the ground ; his long mane 
 hung in thick tangled masses on either side of his 
 huge bull-like crest. Imprisoned and captive as he 
 was, the wild eyes gleaming with unquenched fire 
 from among the black locks which half hid his fore- 
 head, bespoke an indomitable savage spirit. Proudly, 
 with uplifted crest and arched neck, he trotted around 
 his small prison with grand high action, snorting loudly 
 ever and anon.
 
 A HARLEQUINADE. 125 
 
 " What are you going to do with him ? " asked Fitz- 
 gerald. 
 
 " Oh, 1 believe he belongs to the Company's station," 
 returned John ; '* they have sent over for him." 
 
 " You have a treat before you there, Dick," remarked 
 the young squatter to the Company's stockman, who 
 was looking on. "How are you going to manage 
 him ? " 
 
 " That's just what I don't know," said the man, who, 
 though a good enough hand among horses generally, 
 seemed rather frightened. " He's a bit of a man-eater, 
 this one," he grumbled, climbing into the yard, and, 
 cautiously approaching its occupant, who wheeling 
 round, and raising himself on his haunches, struck 
 savagely two or three times at him. " I've be^ at 
 him all day, and that's how he treats me now. He's 
 a regular Benicia Boy," he continued rather rue- 
 fully ; " but I'll put the tackling on him in the crush 
 to-morrow, and see how he'll shape with that." 
 
 Fitzgerald's attention was now directed by one of 
 the men to a particular horse in the other yard, which 
 he at once recognised. 
 
 " By Jove! " he said, "there's a ten-pound note reward 
 out of my pocket. I've not seen that grey horse these 
 two years. I made sure some one had stolen him." 
 Going into the yard, he endeavoured to drive the 
 grey into a corner by himself, and catch him. In
 
 126 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 vain ; round and round flew the mob like wild deer, 
 the grey as wild as any of them. 
 
 Getting a light, long, greenhide - rope, and asking 
 two or three men to help him, the young man gathered 
 up the slack in one hand, and holding the noose in 
 the other, whirled it two or three times round his 
 head, and sent it circling in the air after the excited 
 horses, who kept flying round. Hovering for a portion 
 of a second over the grey's head, it settled round his 
 neck with wonderful precision, the rope was tightened, 
 and, after a plunge or two, the horse, obeying his old 
 education, made towards them, still straining slightly 
 on the rope. 
 
 The rest of the mob were drafted into another yard. 
 
 Fitzgerald sent for his bridle and saddle, and had his 
 
 horse turned into the paddock. With a long stick he 
 
 now rubbed the grey gently over the head and body, 
 
 then, gradually approaching, he slipped on the bridle. 
 
 The rope was taken off and laid on one side. Giving 
 
 the bridle to one of the men to hold, he approached 
 
 the horse carefully from the shoulder, and endeavoured 
 
 (vainly for some time) to put on the saddle ; but it 
 
 was not until the animal's fore-leg was strapped up 
 
 that this could be accomplished and firmly secured. 
 
 The crupper now caused some delay owing to the 
 
 plunging of the animal ; but all was satisfactorily 
 
 managed at length, the men all left the yard, and.
 
 A HARLEQUINADE. 127 
 
 seating themselves on the top-rail of the stock-yard 
 fence, prepared to enjoy the coming scene with true 
 bush zest. Fitzgerald, after fixing the reins to the 
 saddle, undid the strap which held up the creature's 
 foot, and allowed him to run loose, in order that, 
 if disposed to buck, he might do so before being 
 mounted. 
 
 But Harlequin, as the grey was named, did not 
 seem inclined to waste his energies on pigskin merely, 
 although he moved about very stiffly, with slightly 
 humped back, and his tail held closely to his body. 
 
 "You better mind that fellow, Mr Fitzgerald," said 
 the Native ; " he's sure to buck a docker." 
 
 " All right, Jack," said Fitzgerald ; " he looks ugly. 
 I'll give him a few turns round the yard before get- 
 ting on." 
 
 Accordingly the horse was driven at a canter half-a- 
 dozen times round the enclosure, occasionally testify- 
 ing his disapproval of the unaccustomed harness by 
 humping his back, or lashing out with his hind-legs. 
 
 "Way, Harlequin, way, old boy," said the young 
 squatter, stopping him at last, and catching him. 
 "We'll try now whether you or I can hold out 
 longest." 
 
 Leading him into the centre of the yard, he gathered 
 up the reins in his left hand, and raising his cabbage- 
 tree, allowed the chin-strap to drop to its place.
 
 128 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Standing close to the horse's shoulder, and catching 
 the stirrup-leather in his right hand, he was about to 
 make a spring when a violent plunge from Harlequin 
 prevented him. 
 
 This was repeated two or three times, until Fitzger- 
 ald, shortening the reins, and slipping them up the 
 horse's neck until his hand reached the animal's head, 
 seized and held the near-side ear along with them in 
 a grasp of iron, declining all offers of assistance from 
 the onlookers. This plan answered. Placing his toe 
 in the stirrup, he was on Harlequin's back in an 
 instant, — a proceeding which that noble creature 
 instantly resented by making a furious plunge half- 
 way across the yard, alighting with all four feet on 
 the ground at the same time close to each other, his 
 head between his fore-legs, his tail well in, and his 
 back bent like a boomerang. A series of similar move- 
 ments followed with the rapidity of lightning, the 
 vicious brute squealing all the time like a pig, and 
 confining himself to a small corner of the yard. 
 
 Eound and round he spun like a top to the right, 
 then with a sudden prop he lashed out and bucked 
 round and round in the opposite direction. Now he 
 flew partly across the yard, bucking from side to side, 
 and leaning over so much in doing so that it appeared 
 to John a miracle how he recovered his gravity. Well 
 did he maintain the title to his very appropriate name.
 
 A HARLEQUINADE. l29 
 
 for seldom did horse buck harder than did the grey 
 that day. Fitzgerald sat leaning well back, his legs 
 rigid, his body above the hips swaying to the motions 
 of his horse. After the first violent shock, which 
 shifted him a little in his seat, he recovered his bal- 
 ance, and John could hear him mutter between his 
 set teeth as he passed near him once, — " No, no, Mr 
 Harlequin, we don't get on the like of you to come off." 
 But, alas ! the best of riders sometimes come to 
 grief. The next time he passed John, the latter 
 noticed a strap flying loose about the cantle of the 
 saddle, and heard the Native remark, — " He's slipped 
 his crupper; he's bound to come off now." And 
 so he did, but not ingloriously. Each succeeding 
 buck shifted the saddle further and further on to the 
 horse's withers, now that nothing held it back, still 
 the young man kept as firmly to his seat as ever ; at 
 last a furious buck and rear sent the plucky rider to 
 the ground, still clasping the saddle between his legs, 
 and holding the reins of the bridle, which had also 
 been dragged off, in his hand ; and away flew the 
 horse, smashing the saddle with a kick which was 
 intended as a parting salute for his owner. Loud 
 applause and much encouragement had been bestowed 
 during this scene on the young man, who, now pick- 
 ing himself up, examined his tackling. Not a strap 
 was broken, not a buckle undone; the mischief had 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 130 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 all been caused by the animal managing to slip his 
 tail out of the crupper. 
 
 " This saddle is done for," he said ; " who can lend 
 me one ? " 
 
 Four or five were instantly at his service. 
 
 " Now then, old man," he observed coolly, turning 
 to the horse, who stood watching the proceedings 
 from a corner of the yard, " we will try another dodge 
 this time." 
 
 This dodge, which was put in execution upon the 
 animal's being saddled the second time, consisted in 
 tying the crupper to the horse's tail with a piece of 
 twine. 
 
 Once more springing to his seat, the contest recom- 
 menced, Fitzgerald, whose temper was ruffled, freely 
 using whip and spur. This fierce paroxysm lasted 
 about as long as the former one ; then gradually sub- 
 siding, the exhausted bleeding steed acknowledged his 
 efforts as useless, dropped into an ordinary canter, 
 and came to a standstill at his rider's bidding. 
 
 John gazed with aamiration on the handsome, 
 graceful horseman as he leant back on the saddle pat- 
 ting carelessly those hind-quarters to approach which 
 had been so dangerous a few minutes before, and 
 listening to the remarks of the spectators. 
 
 " Well," said one, " that fellow went to market like 
 a bird."
 
 A HARLEQUINADE. 131 
 
 "Yes," echoed another. "Bucked a blessed hurri- 
 cane." 
 
 " Buck a town down," cried a third. 
 
 " Never see'd a horse strip himself naked quicker," 
 muttered a fourth. 
 
 "Good job for you, you didn't catch that kick," 
 congratulated Jack. " It was as close a thing as ever 
 I saw." 
 
 "Well, a miss is as good as a mile," laughed the 
 young man. 
 
 So saying, he unsaddled Harlequin, and turning him 
 into the paddock, walked down to the house with John. 
 
 The pleasant open frankness which characterised 
 young Fitzgerald won our friend's heart at once ; and 
 before long, the infection communicating itself, he 
 found himself talking away as if he had known the 
 other all his life. There was also an open simple 
 manliness about John which was agreeable to the 
 other, who begged that he w^ould return with him 
 to Ungahrun for a short visit. There being little 
 to do at Cambaranga, and old Graham offering no 
 objection, the young men started next morning, 
 making a detour by Be ty ammo station, at which 
 place Fitzgerald was desirous of calling. 
 
 Among other topics of conversation, the character 
 of the Cosgrove family came briefly under discussion ; 
 and it was easy to perceive that Fitzgerald entertained
 
 132 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 no feelings of love towards the father and son, although 
 he spoke very kindly of Kuth. 
 
 " She was a dear good little girl before she went to 
 England/' said Fitzgerald. " I found her once lying 
 upon her mother's grave, crying as if her heart would 
 break, and I thought I would never get her comforted 
 and taken home. But her brother Ealf was a black 
 sheep. Before he left this he had surpassed in mis- 
 chief all the blackguard boys in the surrounding 
 stations. He once tried to steal a black colt of ours 
 which had never been branded, and which he had 
 managed to drive into the Cambaranga stock - yard 
 among a mob of wild horses. If he hasn't mended his 
 manners since he went to England, I should say he 
 will get into trouble some day." 
 
 John assured Fitzgerald that to his certain know- 
 ledge there were no symptoms of reformation visible 
 in young Cosgrove, but warmly re-echoed the other's 
 praises of Euth. 
 
 After travelling for about fifteen miles through a 
 sandy, rather uninteresting, thickly- timbered country, 
 they arrived about mid-day at Betyammo. 
 
 Thick timber and wattle - bushes hid the house 
 from view until the travellers were quite close to it ; 
 and for a mile or two back, huge trees, denuded of 
 their bark for roofing purposes, held up their gaunt 
 bleached arms to heaven, as if appealing against the
 
 BETyAMMO AND THE GRAYS. 133 
 
 cruelty which had thus condemned them to decay in 
 the full vigour of their strength. 
 
 Everywhere were scattered stumps of large trees, 
 mostly sawn down by the cross-cut saw, and their 
 trunks had been split up for building purposes, as 
 the chips and splinters lying about betokened. The 
 buildings were enclosed in a paddock, one side of 
 which ran parallel with the road for some distance. 
 They presented a ragged, patched, rather tumble-down, 
 yet on the whole comfortable, appearance. 
 
 The house never had been good, and its constant 
 patching and repairing had probably cost as much 
 as would have built a new one ; but the family loved 
 it, and in spite of the fits of new house building 
 which periodically attacked Mr Gray, the owner of 
 the station, they continued to dwell in the familiar 
 old bark " humpy," so full of happy memories. The 
 roof was covered with sheets of bark, held down by 
 large wooden riders pegged in the form of a square 
 to one another. The veranda extended the whole 
 length of the front ; but the two ends were closed up, 
 and formed charming, ragged-looking, but exceedingly 
 comfortable little rooms, covered by gorgeous creepers, 
 except where, through the open windows, one caught 
 a glimpse in passing of snow-white mosquito-curtains, 
 and walls papered with illustrations from some of the 
 pictorial journals. The veranda looked out on a pretty
 
 134 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 little flower-garden, its bright beds telling of mucli 
 tender care and attention. A row of large-leaved 
 tropical-looking arrowroot plants surrounded the little 
 enclosure, beyond which the eye took in a considerable 
 portion of the paddock. The greater part of the trees 
 had been carefully felled and stumped; while those 
 remaining, spared evidently with a view to shade and 
 effect, imparted a noble park-like appearance to the 
 view, rising as they did in tall clumps out of the thick 
 short sward of couch-grass, green with the summer 
 thunderstorms. Morning glories wound their grace- 
 ful stems round the battered old posts of the veranda ; 
 and a huge vine spread its large leafy branches over 
 the entire back of the house, tenderly covering from 
 sight the nakedness and defects of the friend who 
 sheltered it from the cold and rain, acquiring itself 
 a double gracefulness in the gentle act. The build- 
 ings, nearly all bearing the same time-honoured look 
 which a bark roof so readily bestows, stood, like those 
 of most other stations, in the form of a quadrangle. 
 
 The centre of the court was occupied by a large 
 tree, around which a handsome gigantic convolvulus 
 twined itself in many a fold, its large, green, plate- 
 like leaves almost concealing the knotted stem and 
 lower branches, from which long sprays trailed down- 
 ward, swaying slightly in the morning breeze. 
 
 In the shade of this old denizen of the woods sat
 
 BETYAMMO AND THE GRAYS. 135 
 
 a merry circle of young black girls in picturesque 
 though rather scanty attire. They were amusing 
 themselves after the fashion of their light-hearted 
 race, by singing one of their never-ending corroborrees. 
 
 One or two had gathered a quantity of the golden 
 everlasting flower, with which they were decorating 
 the short, shiny curls of their playfellows, now and 
 then interrupting the singers with some sally, which 
 would provoke an uncontrollable burst of laughter 
 from all, causing a great display of bright dark eyes 
 and pearly teeth. 
 
 As the young men approached, three or four fine 
 kangaroo - dogs, which had been lying asleep in the 
 shade, started up, barking furiously. 
 
 Exclamations of greeting broke from the girla as 
 they recognised Fitzgerald, whom they had known 
 since their infancy ; and as the young men dis- 
 mounted, old Mr Gray came out bareheaded with a 
 hearty welcome, and a running fire of conversation, 
 orders, and reproaches. 
 
 " Ah, here you are at last, Fitzgerald ! Pretty time 
 you've been about coming over, after all your pro- 
 mises ! Kitty " (this to one of the girls), " you yabber 
 Bobby come up, take 'im off saddle, and give 'im 
 yarraman water. Merry micky now.^ Mrs Gray was 
 
 ^ " Kitty, tell Bobby to come and water tlie horses and unsaddle 
 them. Make haste now. "
 
 136 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 talking of you only this morning," he continued, " and 
 the girls are dying to give you your revenge at 
 croquet. You were beaten shamefully last time you 
 played." 
 
 Fitzgerald had only time to introduce young West 
 to the friendly squatter, when he was surrounded by 
 Mrs Gray and her two daughters, who welcomed him 
 with an unconstrained warmth which revealed a long 
 and intimate acquaintance. 
 
 Not less sincere and scarcely less warm was John's 
 welcome as a new neighbour, and chatting gaily, the 
 whole party entered the house, and going out on 
 the veranda disposed themselves in various squatters' 
 lounges and easy-chairs, old Mr Gray taking posses- 
 sion of a string hammock which hung suspended 
 between two rafters. An animated conversation was 
 kept up by the party until, lunch being announced, 
 they made their way to one of the buildings close 
 to the house, which was used as a detached dining- 
 room. 
 
 The meal was plain but good. To John, indeed, 
 after his hard fare of salt -junk day after day, it 
 almost seemed luxurious — and yet it owed all its 
 nicety to a little feminine supervision of culinary 
 affairs. 
 
 After dinner more conversation on the veranda was 
 followed by an adjournment to a spot sacred to croquet.
 
 BETYAMMO AND THE GRAYS. 137 
 
 which game had penetrated the forest- depths thus far, 
 and which exercised as great a fascination over the 
 minds of the bush-maidens of that time as perhaps 
 lawn-tennis does now. 
 
 The sisters differed considerably from one another, 
 but both were charming, frank, natural girls. They 
 spoke as they felt, honestly, and openly ; and while 
 carefully trained by their mother in the usages of 
 society, their fine open air and self-reliant life had 
 done away with all stiff conventionality without be- 
 stowing the fast air which those city young ladies 
 who despise its precepts frequently acquire. 
 
 Phoebe, the eldest, was petite in figure, and a pecu- 
 liar neatness and deftness characterised her form and 
 actions. She was clever, and had read and under- 
 stood more than many older women with better op- 
 portunities ; still with all, there w^as an innocence 
 and simplicity about her that was most attractive. 
 She was so unselfish, so completely without egotism, 
 that she never seemed to think about herself or her 
 acquirements at all. A humble, guileless, bright, 
 loving little girl she was, and dearly loved by her 
 own people, and indeed by all who knew her. Bessie, 
 who was two years younger, was a little taller, and 
 rather rounder and fuller in figure. A merry, laugh- 
 ing, roguish girl, who found amusement in everything, 
 but with an earnest, sympathetic, true soul beneath
 
 138 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 the surface. Perhaps better fitted to withstand a 
 contrary fortune than her sister, her spirits seemed 
 to rise above any difficulty, and conquer it by force 
 of her strong, faithful, loving nature. Both were 
 cheerful, happy girls, with fair hair and blue eyes, 
 learned in the mysteries of housekeeping, fond of 
 riding, loving a dance with all their hearts, and as 
 much interested in the latest fashions as the rest of 
 the female world in general. 
 
 They had known Fitzgerald for many years, and 
 were never better pleased than when he managed to 
 ride over for a few days. His appearance was always 
 a signal for some unusual little dissipation, and many 
 a scolding did he undergo from light-hearted Bessie 
 when he delayed his coming. 
 
 "Come along, Willy," she called now, addressing 
 him, as she nearly always did, by his Christian name. 
 "I never knew any one so tiresome. You declare 
 you must go home to that horrid mustering to-morrow, 
 and you are wasting the whole of the sunshine ; we 
 have only two hours until sundown. Come along, 
 Phcebe, do ; Mr West, do hurry them up." 
 
 Bessie's energetic commands soon brought the party 
 together, and declaring that Fitzgerald played wretch- 
 edly the last time he was her partner, she announced 
 her intention of joining forces with John. Soon the 
 party were engaged in the now disregarded and de-
 
 BETYAMMO AND THE GEAYS. 139 
 
 spised game. Bessie was the life and soul of it, and 
 in spite of all Fitzgerald's efforts, she croqueted her 
 ball through the hoops in a masterly manner, time 
 after time, returning to send his one way, and her 
 sister's the other, while assisting John, who, to tell 
 the truth, was rather a muff with the mallet. Game 
 after game fell to her and her partner; and at last, 
 satiated with victory, she proposed returning to the 
 house. 
 
 The utter want of female society had never made 
 itself so apparent to John as now when enjoying it, 
 and he felt quite disgusted with the desolate dreari- 
 ness of the life which he had lately thought so fas- 
 cinating. As they approached the house, several black 
 fellows came up expressing delight in their usual 
 demonstrative way at seeing their old acquaintance 
 Fitzgerald, and inquiring as to the whereabouts of 
 friends whose nomadic habits might have led them 
 into his neighbourhood. The girls went in to assist 
 in preparing tea, while Mr and Mrs Gray joined the 
 young men in the garden. Soon Bessie's merry voice 
 was heard summoning the party in, and the evening 
 meal was disposed of amidst much cheerful talk, and 
 pleasant sallies of fun. A smoke on the veranda fol- 
 lowed ; after which Phoebe, seating herself at the 
 piano, struck up one of Strauss's glorious waltzes, 
 marking the time with much precision ; and Bessie,
 
 140 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 calling upon John to assist her, cleared the broad 
 floor of the veranda of the chairs and lounges which 
 filled it, and ordered Fitzgerald to come and dance. 
 He pretended lameness. " Can't, Bessie. Bad spill ; 
 hurt my knee." 
 
 " Oh, what a story ! " and seizing his hand, she 
 insisted on his making an attempt. Eound and round 
 they floated until Fitzgerald sank exhausted. 
 
 " Well, I never did see any one tire so soon," she 
 cried. " I know you are only lazy." 
 
 John now begged for a turn, and acquitted himself 
 to the satisfaction of the vivacious girl, who unhesi- 
 tatingly declared that he was much better fun than 
 her old friend — and "waltzes much better, too," she 
 added, poutingly. She then took her place at the 
 instrument relieving her sister, who was solicited 
 for a dance by Fitzgerald ; and John fancied that her 
 quiet manner had a slight touch of shyness in it, and 
 that her colour slightly rose as she smilingly assented. 
 
 After some time, Bessie, declaring she was quite 
 weary, ceased her dance music, and striking a few 
 chords, sang a sweet old ballad, and the whole party 
 entered the little drawing-room, which was really sur- 
 prisingly pretty for such an out-of-the-way habitation. 
 The slab walls were lined with calico neatly papered. 
 A few good engravings, and a couple of old oil-paint- 
 ings, representing Mr Gray's father and mother, were
 
 BETYAMMO AND THE GRAYS. 141 
 
 hung round, with some local sketches in water-colours, 
 executed by Mrs Gray, who had much taste that way. 
 Magazines and novels lay on the little table, on which 
 stood a handsome kerosine lamp. A book-case, con- 
 taining a capital selection of standard volumes and 
 works of reference, occupied a corner opposite to the 
 piano ; while a sofa-lounge and a few chairs completed 
 the furniture. Tanned native dog skins served as 
 floor-rugs ; and tanned and coloured sheepskins looked 
 very handsome on the backs of the easy-chairs. 
 
 Fitzgerald, who had a good baritone voice, joined 
 the ladies at the piano, and John and Mr Gray 
 conversed. 
 
 About ten o'clock the ladies retired, and the gentle- 
 men withdrew to that apartment in the house spe- 
 cially devoted to bachelors. Brandy was produced, 
 pipes lighted, and conversation returned to the grand 
 staple Australian subject — "stock." 
 
 Mr Gray was a pleasant, frank, country-gentleman- 
 looking squatter, with a kind word for everybody, and 
 a keen eye for the merits or demerits of sheep, cattle, 
 or horses. In early life he had served in the army, 
 but seeing no prospect of marrying the girl he was 
 attached to while remaining in her Majesty's service, 
 he sold his commission, and marrying, sailed for Aus- 
 tralia, where, after some years of hardship and ill-luck, 
 he bought Betyammo, upon which he had lived ever
 
 142 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 since, well to do, if not rich. He was fond of retail- 
 ing stories of his adventures in early life ; and this 
 evening, on John's remarking the gratification he 
 received from the delightful hospitality exercised in 
 the bush, he said : " Well, yes, it is one of the pleas- 
 antest features, I think, in a squatter's life, being in 
 a position to afford a welcome to those in want of it ; 
 and indeed the favour very often is conferred by the 
 visitor. From him we derive information as to the 
 doings of our neighbours, and much general news 
 which could reach us through no other channel." 
 
 " But do you not meet with very strange characters 
 at times ? " questioned John." 
 
 " Occasionally," answered Mr Gray ; " but they in- 
 variably behave themselves with propriety. Should 
 they not do so, they would at once be requested to 
 remove themselves to the men's huts." 
 
 "When I was much younger," he continued, ''I 
 was travelling in the New England district, in New 
 South Wales. I spent a night at a bush inn, and 
 there fell in with a tall, soldierly -looking Irishman. 
 He had served as a soldier of fortune in more than 
 one Continental army, and his conversation was exceed- 
 ingly amusing. A sort of devil-may-care recklessness 
 seemed to sit on him with a jaunty air, and one felt 
 rather inclined to like the fellow. Our roads lay the 
 same way, and we jogged along together for a couple
 
 . BETYAMMO AND THE GRAYS. 143 
 
 of days, when we arrived at a station owned by an 
 old bachelor. He received us very hospitably, and 
 sitting in the evening over our pipes and brandy-and- 
 water, just as we are now doing, the Irishman hap- 
 pened to make some remark about Spain. 
 
 "'Have you ever been there?' interrogated our host. 
 
 " ' Oh yes,' returned the other ; ' I served a consid- 
 erable time in the Carlist army during the war/ 
 
 " ' Indeed ! ' replied the old man, with much in- 
 terest. ' I had a nephew,' he said, speaking slowly, 
 * a very dear nephew in that army. I wonder did you 
 ever meet him ? I have not heard of him for years.' 
 
 "'What was his name?' inquired the ex-Carlist 
 officer. 
 
 *' ' His name was Nugent,' responded the squatter. 
 
 " ' What ! Francis de Burgh Nugent ? ' 
 
 " ' The same.' 
 
 " ' God bless me ! ' ejaculated the soldier, in a tone of 
 surprised and rather curious interest ; adding, ' WJiy, 
 I shot that fellow ten years ago /' " 
 
 " What a brute he must have been ! " broke from 
 both John and Fitzgerald. 
 
 " How did the old man take the information ? " 
 queried the latter. 
 
 "He got up," answered Mr Gray, "and without 
 saying a word left the room." 
 
 *' And the Irishman ? "
 
 144 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 "Oh, be wondered what was the matter with the 
 old fellow, thought him very strange in his manner 
 to his guests, and could not be brought to see that he 
 had outraged propriety in any way by his indecent 
 and cruel confession. We left next morning at day- 
 light ; I for one had no wish to meet our host again ; 
 and soon after I lost sight of the easy-minded mercen- 
 ary. Now I'll show you to your rooms ; breakfast 
 will be ready to-morrow at eight, so you need not turn 
 out early. Good night." 
 
 "Good night," "good night," returned his guests, 
 retiring to their room.
 
 145 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 EARLY MORNING AT THE GRAYS' A RIDE TO UNGAHRUN 
 
 THE CATTLE- BUYER. 
 
 Notwithstanding that no duty called them forth, both 
 the young men were up by daybreak. Early habits 
 are so general in the bush that breakfast is usually 
 over by seven, and all hands at work. They strolled 
 up to the horse-yard, into which all the horses con- 
 tained in the paddock had been driven by a blackboy. 
 A yard full of horses or cattle is irresistible to a bush- 
 man : if he has the time to spare, he cannot pass until 
 he has examined the animals, deciphered their brands 
 and criticised their merits, and in all probability stowed 
 away in his mind the images of some of them so ac- 
 curately as to be able to recognise them after months 
 and even years have elapsed. After an hour spent in 
 this manner they returned to the house, where they 
 found the young ladies busy in their morning duties. 
 
 Bessie had first come out with a plateful of food for 
 her fowls, and as she raised her voice greeting her 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 friends, a handsome tame " native companion/' which 
 had been stalking about picking up insects, drew near. 
 Opening his large slate-coloured wings, and dancing 
 grotesquely, the interesting bird approached his young 
 mistress, bowing gracefully from side to side as he 
 hopped lightly along; then running up, he laid his 
 heron-like head lovingly against her breast. 
 
 " What a nice bird ! " said John, who had no idea 
 they made such capital pets. 
 
 " Yes ; isn't he a dear ? " returned Bessie. " Davy, 
 
 our blackboy, knocked him down with a stick when 
 
 little, and brought him home to me, and now he will 
 
 not go away although he has his perfect freedom." 
 
 "I don't wonder at it, Bessie," said Fitzgerald; 
 
 ''slavery to such a charming mistress " 
 
 "Now keep your compliments for a native com- 
 panion of your own, Mr Fitzgerald," said Bessie laugh- 
 ing; "you will be taking one some day, you know, 
 unless you marry an English wife. Come and look 
 at my Joey, Mr West; and oh, Willy, we have got 
 the most darling little humming-birds you ever saw ! 
 Phoebe has them in a cage, and she doesn't know what 
 they live on, and she wants you to tell her." 
 
 " All right," returned Fitzgerald, entering the house. 
 
 The lively girl now opened the door of a small room, 
 
 and a young kangaroo came hopping out. His pretty 
 
 head, with its longish ears, and full, soft, lustrous eyes.
 
 EARLY MORNING AT THE GRAYS'. 147 
 
 looked something like a fawn's, as he sat up and ate 
 bread from the gentle hand of the Australian girl. 
 "There, Joey. Now look, Mr West, he follows me 
 everywhere. I shut him up at night because I am 
 afraid of some of the dogs chasing or killing him. Go 
 away, Smoker, now ! go away, Spring ! " she cried, as 
 two tall, rich, tawny-coloured kangaroo-dogs with black 
 muzzles jumped up and raced round the terrified Joey, 
 who hopped close to his mistress's skirt for protection. 
 " When he grows a little bigger he can hold his own 
 with the dogs," she said ; " for they often seem afraid 
 of touching a tame kangaroo, although they kill great 
 old-men every day." 
 
 The native companion and the fowls, which had 
 now flocked up, were fed, and Bessie and John went 
 in and joined Fitzgerald and Phoebe on the veranda. 
 They were standing close together, near a cage which 
 hung half hidden among the foliage of a beautiful 
 creeper. The rising sun was yet low in the heavens, 
 and shone full into the veranda, causing the dewdrops 
 on the short grass to sparkle like innumerable dia- 
 monds. A beautiful little blue mountain-parrot flew 
 from spray to spray, alighting ever and anon on the 
 head or shoulders of its mistress, uttering, in a whist- 
 ling tone, " Pretty boy, pretty boy," and John thought 
 he had seldom seen a lovelier picture. At this moment 
 one of the little humming-birds fluttered out of its cage
 
 148 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 to the ground ; and instantly, before any attempt at a 
 rescue could be made, it was seized and gobbled up 
 by a great red cock that happened to be prowling 
 about in search of what might turn up. 
 
 " Oh the horrid creature ! he has eaten alive my 
 little darling humming-bird ! " exclaimed Phoebe, ready 
 to cry. 
 
 An attempt now made by John and Fitzgerald to 
 catch the marauder and make him disgorge his prey, 
 served only to produce a wild cackle and desperate 
 exertions to escape on the cock's part, which it 
 eventually did by taking to its wings. 
 
 Phoebe was inconsolable for a time ; and Bessie, 
 though grieving over the loss of her sister's pet, 
 could not help sometimes seeing the comic side of 
 the accident, and laughing at the instantaneous and 
 unlooked-for manner of its disappearance. Mr Gray 
 and his kind wife now came, and the party adjourned 
 to breakfast; after which meal, horses having been 
 brought to the door and saddled, the two young ladies 
 and their father accompanied the young men a portion 
 of their journey, bidding them at last good-bye, with 
 many hospitable invitations for an early repetition 
 of their visit. 
 
 " What a nice family ! " said John to his friend. 
 " I had no idea that such lady -like accomplished 
 women were to be met with in the bush."
 
 A RIDE TO UNGAHRUN. 149 
 
 " I believe you," returned his companion ; " English 
 people are so conceited. They seem to fancy civilisa- 
 tion cannot exist much beyond London. I suppose 
 you fancied we were a community of convicts ? " 
 
 " Well, the truth is, I had no very distinct notions 
 on the subject. I always thought that the term 
 * native' was applied to the aboriginals, and now I 
 find that it really designates the native-born white 
 population." 
 
 "It is applied to both. I am a native, and am 
 proud of it. I would not change, even if I could, 
 to be an Englishman. It sometimes surprises me to 
 meet with Englishmen, educated men of the world, 
 who display an amount of ignorance about the extent, 
 resources, and geography of the most important of 
 British colonies, that one of our little schoolboys 
 would be ashamed of." 
 
 "Well," confessed John, "I must frankly say 
 that I knew nothing of the true state of affairs. I 
 believed three parts of the people were convicts and 
 bushrangers, and that the rest reared stock in some 
 barbarous way, and picked up gold in the rivers or 
 on the surface of the ground." 
 
 "Most of your countrymen have the same opinion 
 when they come out," replied Eitzgerald, who seemed 
 rather sore on this subject. "The fact is that, since 
 the gold-fields were discovered, the convict element
 
 150 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 has been lost sight of and almost flooded out by the 
 immense influx of population. You do come across 
 it in various ways, but it is now a considerable time 
 since the Eastern colonies refused to allow transporta- 
 tion of criminals to their shores, since which time 
 most of the ' old hands,' as they are called, have died 
 out; and although the disgrace clings in a certain 
 measure to their descendants, yet they are compara- 
 tively so few in number to the bulk of the population, 
 that they are quite lost sight of ; and besides, some 
 of the convicted felons were men transported for 
 political offences, and other causes, which carried 
 no degrading taint with them. Others, sent out for 
 very trifling misdemeanours, were probably much 
 honester than many who occupy respectable posi- 
 tions at home. A great number, I am quite willing 
 to admit, were deservedly sentenced for their crimes ; 
 but I daresay, could the statistics be procured and 
 published, it would surprise one to find how many 
 reformed under the influence of kind treatment, a 
 ticket -of- leave, and prosperity. And to say the 
 least, the manner in which our society gathers its 
 skirts -together for fear of contamination from the 
 children or grandchildren of one who made but a 
 single error, and spent the rest of an honest lifetime 
 in endeavouring to redeem it, is most deplorable, and 
 uncharitable in a Christian people. As for you Eng-
 
 A RIDE TO UNGAHRUN. 151 
 
 lish people, you don't take the trouble to make any 
 distinction at all. Everybody is either a convict or 
 perhaps some relation to one." 
 
 The travellers now emerged from the sandy, wooded 
 country through which their road had hitherto lain, 
 and entered upon a large extent of richly -grassed 
 rolling downs and plains. Herds of cattle grazed 
 quietly about or lay camped under the shade of 
 clumps of trees, which here and there dotted the 
 prairie. A chain of beautiful blue -peaked hills 
 stretched away in the distance, bounding the view; 
 while in the immediate neighbourhood of the road 
 there arose abruptly from the surrounding plain 
 a large, isolated, fiat-topped mountain of imposing 
 appearance, its rugged sides clothed with dense 
 scrub. 
 
 The way seemed much longer across the plain than 
 it had done through the forest country, and John was 
 not sorry to see a thick belt of timber, which they 
 at first could only distinguish by its blackness, be- 
 coming more and more distinct, A couple of miles 
 beyond the edge of the timber brought them to a 
 large gate in a paddock-fence, entering through which 
 they made their way up to the station. 
 
 Ungahrun was one of the finest stations in the 
 district. The elder Fitzgerald had taken it up 
 twenty years previously, when the country was
 
 152 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 entirely unknown, except to a few hardy pioneers 
 who, like himself, had pushed beyond the frontiers 
 of the gradually extending civilisation, and had 
 braved the dangers of want of food, sickness, and 
 hostility from the aboriginals ; and his son, who 
 now welcomed John West so heartily to its hospi- 
 tality, had imbibed a love of its sylvan beauties with 
 his mother's milk. On the soft flower-strewn sv/ard 
 he had rolled bareheaded, barefooted, a rosy, chubby- 
 cheeked child. On the banks of the creek which 
 flowed past his father's door he had sat for hours 
 watching the finny inhabitants of its waters as they 
 darted to and fro ; or plunging head foremost beneath 
 its cooling wave, imitated their motions with almost 
 equal dexterity. Every spot on the large tract of 
 country included in his father's run was familiar to 
 him, and associated with some early memory. Up 
 by that clump of river -oaks he stole quietly, when, 
 possessing himself of a gun for the first time, he 
 slipped out, determined to demonstrate his ability 
 to use it. That was the very tree he fired from. 
 How proudly his heart beat as he picked up his 
 wild ducks, and returned home with the spoil ! 
 Down in the sand there he had mounted his first 
 buck -jumper. And as he grew older, action suc- 
 ceeding action, and memory following memory, con- 
 tributed to endear its scenes to his mind.
 
 UNGAHRUN. 153 
 
 The house was the finest that John had yet seen 
 in the bush. It was built, like all the others, of 
 hardwood slabs, but considerable trouble had been 
 taken in the erection. It was one-storeyed, but twice 
 the length of the Cambaranga house, and a splendid 
 broad veranda ran round the whole building. Its 
 doors and windows were of that kind known in the 
 bush as French lights. The iron roof was raised on 
 double wall-plates, to allow a constant current of air 
 to pass through, thus securing thorough ventilation 
 and coolness. 
 
 Fitzgerald led the way past the house to a little 
 cottage beside it, covered in bush fashion with roses 
 and other creepers, saying, with a half laugh, "I 
 daresay you will think it funny that we don't live 
 in the cawbawn humpy (big house) ; but you see, 
 after my father built it, he could not make up his 
 mind to quit the little one in which he had lived so 
 many years ; and now that he and my mother have 
 gone to live in Sydney, it is too large for my use." 
 Dismounting at the door amongst greetings from dogs 
 of all kinds, and the inevitable blacks, they unsaddled 
 their horses, and after washing their backs, turned 
 them loose in the paddock. A man now came out 
 of the cottage and bade good evening to Fitzgerald, 
 who welcomed him heartily. 
 
 He was, as John soon discovered, a buyer of fat
 
 154 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 cattle for a boiling down company, which consumed 
 most of the Ungahrun fats. 
 
 " Well, Thompson, back for more cattle ? " 
 
 " Yes ; how are you off? " 
 
 "Oh, T think we can let you have a draft of a 
 couple of hundred pretty fair." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad of that, for we are running short. 
 I was half afraid that you might have disposed 
 of this year's draft as the Bindarobina and Bar- 
 ham Downs people have done. Some of these 
 gold-field butchers have been round, I know, buy- 
 ing up." 
 
 " They came here, too," said Fitzgerald ; " but they 
 wanted to buy on bills, and I didn't quite like the 
 look of things, so I stuck to the bullocks." 
 
 " All right," said Thompson. " Can you go out 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, as soon as you like ; but come in now." 
 
 The cattle-buyer was a strong, bronzed, intelligent- 
 looking man, with a long beard. He was dressed 
 in moleskin breeches and "jockey" boots. A crim- 
 son shirt, open at the throat, completed his attire. 
 His brawny arms, which the roUed-up sleeves of his 
 shirt disclosed, were as black as the dark sunburnt 
 neck and throat. 
 
 " Oh," he said, " there's another fellow here also : 
 I don't know who he is ; but I picked him up on the
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYEK. 155 
 
 road, and he came with me. He's a queer- looking 
 stick, but not a bad fellow." 
 
 The person alluded to now came up, and introduced 
 himself to Fitzgerald by the name of " Williams." He 
 said he was travelling down the country, and begged 
 for a night's entertainment, which the kind-hearted 
 young fellow willingly accorded. 
 
 The party entered the little paling-enclosed veranda 
 of the cottage, and discussed matters pending the 
 preparation of the evening meal. 
 
 It presented a very bachelor-like appearance. On 
 the floor in one corner lay a saddle beside a heap of 
 horse-hair, intended for the stuffing of its panel. A 
 number of horse-shoes lay in another ; straps and sur- 
 cingles dangled from various pegs ; a half-completed 
 stock-whip hung beside the door; and odd spurs 
 and different kinds of bits and stirrup - irons lay 
 about in every direction. 
 
 The stranger made himself rather agreeable. He 
 was an Englishman, and had been a few years in the 
 colony. He said he had been employed on a station 
 further north, and was going down for a spell. He 
 looked yellow and unhealthy, and occasionally was 
 attacked with some nervous disorder, which made 
 him contort his face in the most dreadful manner, 
 and throw his arms wildly about — after which he 
 would go on talking as if nothing had happened.
 
 156 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Having betaken themselves outside to inspect the 
 station, John and Williams were immediately accosted 
 by a great hulking black fellow, who, detecting a raw 
 look about them, came up begging for "tombacco." 
 John had none to give ; but Williams, who was a 
 smoker, put his hand into his pocket, and was about 
 to bestow a small piece on the sable beggar, when 
 suddenly his infirmity came upon him with great 
 force. Twisting his face diabolically, he waved his 
 arms round like a windmill. The black fellow 
 merely gave one look, then taking to his heels he 
 fled, glancing over his shoulder occasionally, and 
 spitting, as their manner is when followed, as they 
 think, by evil spirits. 
 
 In spite of his feeling for Williams, John could not 
 avoid being much amused at the precipitate action 
 which had followed the lazy, listless manner of the 
 aboriginal, — and indeed, on recovering, Williams 
 joined heartily in the laugh. A bullock -bell rung 
 by hand, now announced that supper awaited them ; 
 and soon the small party, being joined by a young 
 man, who acted as a kind of overseer on the station, 
 gathered round the table in the unpretending little 
 room. 
 
 Boiled salt-junk, with fat lun (a kind of indigenous 
 spinach) and potatoes, washed down with copious 
 draughts of tea, poured out of a huge tin teapot,
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYER. 157 
 
 formed the supper, and was much appreciated. 
 The guests, following the example of their host, 
 sat, as is customary at a bachelor's table, in their 
 shirt-sleeves, or rather with them rolled up. 
 
 " I say, West," said Fitzgerald, " we had better 
 luck last night. I don't know how it is, but I can 
 never get a cook to make up anything but salt-junk. 
 Now these Miss Grays, they knock up something 
 good in no time." 
 
 Here Thompson, who was on intimate terms with 
 his host, advised him to go in for an assistant man- 
 ager to look after home affairs. " By Jove I Fitz, 
 it's a shame to see that house empty and you a 
 bachelor." 
 
 " Very good advice, old boy," returned the latter ; 
 " go ahead with a good example — I'll follow ; " so 
 saying, he got up and commenced tilling his pipe. 
 
 Very soon the little room was filled with heavy 
 clouds of tobacco-smoke, the position of each being 
 only to be guessed at by the voice. 
 
 "Did you hear of that murder by the blacks on 
 the Nelson Eiver the other day ? " asked Williams, 
 addressing Fitzgerald. 
 
 " No," said he ; " what was it ? " 
 
 "Why, they stuck up Wilson's station there, and 
 murdered the man and woman in the kitchen ; they 
 then planted inside the house, and waited until
 
 158 BUSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Wilson came home at night with his stockman. 
 Then they rushed out, knocked old Wilson on the 
 head, and drove a spear through the man's side. 
 He managed, however, to jump on a horse which 
 happened to be handy, and escaped to the next 
 station. Some of the men got together and went 
 over, but the niggers had gone, after gutting the 
 store. They found the bodies frightfully mutilated, 
 and buried them." 
 
 " They're a bad lot of devils those Nelson blacks," 
 remarked Thompson. "Did the native troopers go 
 after them ? " 
 
 "Yes, they had started when I left, but I didn't 
 hear how they got on." 
 
 " How far is it from here ? " asked John. 
 
 "About three hundred miles." 
 
 "And do the blacks come in about the stations 
 as they do here ? " 
 
 "Oh dear no," answered Thompson. "After you 
 get out about one hundred and fifty miles beyond 
 this you won't see a nigger unless it be a civilised 
 fellow with his master." 
 
 "You see this is the way of it. West," explained 
 Fitzgerald. " When a squatter goes into new country 
 he is very often short-handed, besides which, on a 
 sheep-station, the shepherds are scattered in ones and 
 twos over an immense extent of country. Now the
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYEE. 159 
 
 blacks are numerous. They have nothing to do but 
 to fight and hunt ; and if they knew the actual state 
 of the white man's affairs, they would take advantage 
 of it to come down at any moment and massacre all 
 hands. On that account it is highly necessary they 
 should be kept in the dark as to what is going on in 
 the run. They are therefore driven back to the moun- 
 tains and scrubs ; and it is only after ten or twelve 
 years have elapsed, when they have learnt to dread 
 the white man's arms, and have become more tolerant 
 of his presence, that they are cautiously admitted on 
 the stations. Of course there is a constant state of 
 simmering warfare between the two races. The black 
 kills a white man, or a number, when he gets the 
 chance, and the white man revenges it by going out 
 
 • 
 
 alone, or sending out a force of black fellows, mounted 
 and trained as irregular cavalry, under the command 
 of a European officer, to shoot down as many of the 
 offenders as they can. Every one carries firearms of 
 one sort or another. They may never in their lives 
 have occasion to use them, or they may be attacked 
 on the very day when they have incautiously laid 
 aside the hitherto constantly carried revolver." 
 
 " And do the native troopers fire willingly on their 
 countrymen ? " questioned John. 
 
 " Nothing can aff'ord them greater pleasure," ex- 
 claimed Thompson ; " and Government takes advantage
 
 160 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 of the hatred they bear to one another. For instance, 
 men enlisted in this district are always employed in 
 one at some distance away." 
 
 " Do they never unite against their officers ? " 
 
 " No, I never heard of a case," answered the cattle- 
 buyer. " They sometimes desert singly or in a body ; 
 but as a rule, a troop contains men from half-a-dozen 
 different tribes, who, notwithstanding that they may 
 have been comrades for many years, still secretly 
 cherish their old tribal hatred for one another. The 
 officer is, or should be, the friend of all, and in this 
 way comes to the knowledge of any little plot that 
 may be brewing in his camp ; and besides which, he 
 has a certain source of information in the police gins — 
 i.e., the men's wives ; they generally discover what is 
 going on, and, woman-like, cannot rest until they have 
 told it." 
 
 "Are there many of these men employed in the 
 country?" pursued John. 
 
 " I think," replied Fitzgerald, " there may be 
 from 200 to 250, but not more. Each detachment 
 of eight or ten troopers has a white officer and a 
 white camp-sergeant, who superintends the distribu- 
 tion of rations, has charge of the barracks when the 
 officer happens to be away on patrol, and whose wife 
 usually cooks for him when at home. These detach- 
 ments are scattered over an immense extent of terri-
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYER. 161 
 
 tory. The police districts into which the country is 
 divided are enormously large, a patrol having often to 
 travel many hundred miles before it returns to its bar- 
 racks. On this account," continued Fitzgerald, " it 
 frequently happens that when some aggression has 
 been committed, the police are at a distance from the 
 scene, and much valuable time elapses before they 
 can arrive." 
 
 "And how do they proceed when they do arrive?" 
 persisted young West, much interested. 
 
 "They inspect the scene of the outrage," said his 
 friend, " and discover the foot -tracks made by the 
 wild blacks. These they follow with the pertinacity 
 of bloodhounds, and almost invariably overtake and 
 punish the offenders. It sometimes occurs that other 
 blacks join the original criminals after the perpetra- 
 tion of the crime, in which case, it being utterly im- 
 possible to distinguish the guilty from the innocent, 
 all suffer alike." 
 
 " But," said John, " a single black fellow may alone 
 deserve the punishment which, it seems, is inflicted on 
 all indiscriminately." 
 
 "Yes ; unfortunately it is so," said the young squat- 
 ter. " In unsettled districts the wild aboriginals are 
 seldom seen except accidentally or in a case of this 
 sort. They, as a rule, confine themselves to those 
 portions of their wilds which, on account of their 
 
 VOL. L L
 
 162 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 barrenness, are useless to the white men as pasture- 
 grounds ; and the principle we go on is to make a 
 tribe responsible for the behaviour of its individual 
 members. In truth, their almost communistic style 
 of living utterly precludes the idea that any of their 
 number could undertake any enterprise against the 
 whites unknown to the others. The squatter and 
 native police officer therefore condemn the whole." 
 
 " I should think," remarked John, " that under this 
 system tribes are being gradually annihilated." 
 
 " Oh, not so much as you would think," broke in 
 Thompson. " The niggers are so active and cunning 
 in making use of trees, rocks, and long grass as 
 shelter, that very many escape altogether, after which 
 the tribe remains quiet, probably for a considerable 
 time." 
 
 ''Are they very savage in their natural state?" 
 
 " They are ; and yet when the humour seizes them 
 they can be kind enough," returned the cattle-buyer, 
 who had large experience on the outside country. 
 " I've known men who were well treated when found 
 by them utterly exhausted from want of food and 
 water. I myself," he continued, "have reason to 
 speak well of their kindness, for some of them suf- 
 fered me to escape once when I had got among them, 
 and showed me all the attention which lay in their 
 power/'
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYER. 163 
 
 " Give US the yarn, Thompson," urged Fitzgerald ; 
 "here's West dying to hear some romantic adven- 
 tures." 
 
 "All right," said the other; "it will give him an 
 idea of what may happen to himself some of these 
 days." So saying, he filled his pipe and began his 
 tale.
 
 164 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YARN. 
 
 " I WAS * Super ' of a sheep - station up north two 
 years ago, and had got along very well without hav- 
 ing come into collision with the blacks. The station 
 had been formed for about six years, and those who 
 had taken it up and managed it before my time had 
 been equally fortunate. Some of the neighbours had 
 had men killed and sheep driven away, but we always 
 escaped. We had grown so careless as to have given 
 up carrying firearms about the head-station ; and even 
 the shepherds were in the habit of going unarmed, 
 although living far away from each other. 
 
 " Having gone out one evening to count the sheep 
 at one of the sheep-stations, I was surprised to come 
 across a strange flock, evidently unshepherded, grazing, 
 and scattered through the bush in the vicinity of the 
 yard. On examining them, they proved to be a flock 
 which had been shepherded by a man living with his 
 wife and child at another hut eight or ten miles away.
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YARN. 165 
 
 " I guessed that something had gone wrong : the 
 man had gone to sleep perhaps, and the flock had 
 gradually fed away without his knowledge, and on 
 awaking he had not been able to find them ; or he 
 had got separated in some silly way from his charge, 
 and they having been shepherded at this sheep-station 
 before, made their way back to their favourite old 
 beat. The thought of blacks being on the run never 
 entered my mind. 
 
 " As soon as I had counted the sheep and secured 
 the strange flock in an empty yard, I started down 
 the creek to the sheep-station hut where lived Don- 
 nelly, the shepherd of the wandering flock, with his 
 wife and child. It was a calm, balmy, moonlit night, 
 and as I rode through the silent bush no sound was 
 heard save the mournful wailing shriek of the wild 
 curlew as it rose, shriller and shriller, until, fading 
 away, its plaintive cry was lost in the forest-depths ; 
 or, when startlingly near, arose the prolonged howl of 
 the dingjo, echoed back aojain on all sides. 
 
 "There was something in the air as I approached 
 the hut which caused my heart to sink. A foreboding 
 of evil seized me as I rode up to the little dwelling 
 which looked so wedrd-like in the ghostly moonlight. 
 
 " ' Are you in, Donnelly ? ' I shouted. 
 
 " ' Oh ! ' said a feeble voice, inside ; * who are you ? ' 
 
 " ' Thompson. Don't you know me, Mrs Donnelly ? '
 
 166 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 " ' Have you seen my husband? ' 
 " My heart felt like a lump of lead. ' No/ I said, 
 speaking as cheerfully as I could. ' Isn't he here ? ' 
 "'I haven't seen him since Monday morning' (this 
 
 was Thursday night), 'and oh, I fear — I fear ' 
 
 Here her sobs interrupted her. 
 
 " I still sat on my horse outside, for the conversa- 
 tion was being conducted with the door barred. 
 
 " ' Did you hear or see anything to cause you 
 alarm?' said I. 
 
 " ' No ; nothing. Only on Sunday night — the last 
 night I saw him — the dogs howled the whole night 
 through ; and I was frightened, and he kissed me, 
 and told me no harm should befall me while he was 
 near. I fear — oh, I do not know what I fear. A 
 snake may have bitten him, or he may have had sun- 
 stroke, or perhaps blacks may have been around the 
 house watching him depart on Monday. My dear 
 kind fellow ! ' Here she broke once more into a fit 
 of weeping. 
 
 " ' Now, Mrs Donnelly, you must hope for the best,' 
 said I, not knowing well what to say ; for the woman 
 was distracted with grief, and half maddened with the 
 weary watching of these awful days. She knew not 
 the way through the trackless bush and over the moun- 
 tains to the head-station. Her only hope was to sit 
 still and wait ; but oh, the agony of that waiting !
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YAEN. 167 
 
 " ' Oh, there is no hope, no hope ! I knew it ; I felt 
 it when his sheep came home on Monday night with- 
 out him, and the dog that loved him so brought them 
 to the yard and went away ; and she only came back 
 to-day, wherever she has been. Oh, if she could only 
 tell ! I kept the sheep two days in the yard and then 
 I turned them out up the creek, in the hopes that they 
 might go back to their old run, and so give notice of 
 something being wrong.' 
 
 " ' Now, Mrs Donnelly,' said I, ' if you like I'll ride 
 in for help and be out the first thing in the morning, 
 and track and find your husband ; or if you feel fright- 
 ened, I'll just lie down here and go in the morning.' 
 
 " * Don't wait,' implored the poor creature. ' Oh, go 
 at once ; it will save time, perhaps his life ! Oh, pray, 
 go ! Never mind me. I'm not afraid for myself . 
 
 " * Well, good night, and God keep you,' I uttered 
 in a broken voice ; for I'm hanged if the whole thing 
 wasn't rather too much for me." 
 
 ** No wonder," ejaculated his audience. 
 
 " ' Well, I pushed home that night and roused up 
 the overseer, got fresh horses up and firearms cleaned 
 and loaded. We took a man with us to shepherd poor 
 Donnelly's flock, which we counted when we arrived 
 at the yards. They were seven short. From that time 
 I had little hope, although I said nothing. 
 
 " We called at the sheep-station hut just to give the
 
 168 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 poor woman the comfort of knowing we were doing 
 what we could. Then we searched until we found 
 the tracks of the shepherd as he followed his flock 
 out to pasture on that Monday morning. The sheep 
 in coming home had, as their nature directs them, 
 chosen a different route, so that the tracks were not 
 obliterated. Slowly keeping on the track (for a man 
 does not make much of a mark on hard ground, and 
 we had no blackboy), we followed until we came to a 
 large river, into which the sheep-station creek emptied 
 itself, considerably lower down. ' Ah,' thought I, 
 * they came here to drink. Yes, here's their camp : 
 they camped here during the heat of the sun.' The 
 tracks now led down to the bank of the river, where 
 I lost them among the hard shingle and gravel. My 
 companion and I searched carefully along the banks, 
 but there were no tracks of the man returning ; then 
 they led down to the water's edge, and there we lost 
 them. The river was here broad and rocky ; a waste 
 mountainous country lay on the other side. There 
 was no inducement for him to cross. Suddenly the 
 overseer raising his head uttered a short ejaculation. 
 
 " ' Found anything ? ' I asked, quickly. 
 
 *' Silently he pointed in the air. Words could have 
 conveyed no more significance than that gesture. 
 Circling in the air were numbers of carrion - kites, 
 while others sat on trees, either gorged, or waiting to
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YARN. 169 
 
 commence a banquet of horror. What that meant my 
 throbbing heart only too surely told me. A long 
 island, clothed with thick vegetation, lay between us 
 and the other shore ; and it was above the furthest 
 channel that the birds of evil omen flew. 
 
 " Hastily stripping, and tying up our horses, we 
 grasped our revolvers and forded the first stream. We 
 searched up and down the island, looking for what 
 we feared to find. Nothing was to be seen. At last 
 I cast my eyes on the other stream. Something there 
 was there. Yes — something. What is it? Is it a 
 sheep ? No. God ! now I see. It is a naked 
 body, on its face, jammed in between the rocks, the 
 poor stiff legs moving up and down with the rapid 
 current. I cooeyed. The overseer came hastily. My 
 face told him. 
 
 " ' Where is it ? ' he breathed, in a fearful whisper. 
 
 *' I pointed at the dreadful it. 
 
 " ' The head ! Look, it has no head ! " he cried. 
 
 " I looked again. It was true. The bare neck-bone 
 stood out several inches above where the flesh had 
 been cut. Somehow I felt relieved. It was bad 
 enough to have to view the swollen, festering, sun- 
 blistered corpse ; but at that moment I felt that to 
 look on the sodden, water - bleached face, with the 
 ghastly goggle eyes and tangled dripping locks, would 
 have been more than I could stand.
 
 170 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 " Well, we cleared out of that fast enough, you may 
 depend. I sent my companion to bring in the woman 
 to the head-station, while I myself rode off to despatch 
 letters calling for the assistance of the native police. 
 I then got a couple of more men, and taking a wool- 
 sack and pick and shovel, we went back to give poor 
 Donnelly Christian burial. We waded out and man- 
 aged to slip some bagging under the corpse, and 
 brought him ashore. Alas ! he was shockingly muti- 
 lated. And there, on his left side, the little round 
 hole too surely told where the deadly spear had pene- 
 trated. His head we could not find. We buried him 
 under a river-oak of that darkly timbered island. And 
 the dense underwood, amid which had lurked his 
 savage slayers, now shelters the lonely grave where, 
 unheeded by all save One, that disfigured clay lies." 
 
 " What became of the poor woman 1 " asked his 
 hearers. 
 
 "The overseer brought her in. She received the 
 news of her husband's death in a dull stupid sort 
 of manner, as if hearing without understanding. She 
 had apparently lost all interest in life. She sat all 
 day by herself, rocking to and fro, with the poor 
 fatherless child clasped tightly to her bosom. We' 
 made a subscription for the poor creature, and sent 
 her down to her friends, who lived in Sydney ; but 
 since then I have heard nothing of her."
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYEE's YAEN. 171 
 
 " Now, then, have some more Hennessy," said Fitz- 
 gerald, pushing the brandy-bottle towards Thompson, 
 " and tell us how you got mixed up with the niggers ; 
 and after that I'll tell you of an adventure which be- 
 fell me about three months ago."
 
 172 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYEE's YAKN CONTINUED. 
 
 " I TOLD you that I had sent off for the native police," 
 commenced the ex - Super after a deep draught of 
 " three-star," judiciously qualified, though by no means 
 drowned, with water. " Well, they came after about 
 a week had elapsed. I might have followed the trail 
 myself, with some of our men : but in the first place, 
 I feared that we were not strong enough for the 
 natives, who were evidently in large numbers; and 
 in the second, I could not be certain that my own 
 men would not report the occurrence to Government, 
 in which case, supposing any of the wretches to have 
 been knocked over, I would in all probability have 
 had to stand my trial for murder. 
 
 " The detachment came at last, and although officers 
 of police are supposed to allow no whites to accom- 
 pany them, yet being well known to the sub-inspector 
 in charge, he was only too glad of my company for a 
 few days.
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YAEN CONTINUED. 173 
 
 "The boys of the troop, on arriving at the spot 
 where I had lost the tracks on the shingle, spread out, 
 and their acute eyesight enabled them to read the 
 characters on the earth as one would a printed book. 
 
 " ' Here, Mahmy,' said one to his chief — ' here that 
 been cut him head off. You mil-mil (see) blood.' 
 
 " I shuddered. There, now that it was pointed out 
 to me, on the very stone I had sat down on when 
 stripping to search for the body, the blood-stains were 
 plain. They spattered the dead leaves, and stained 
 the grass-stalks. 
 
 "Well, we started on the tracks, overtook the re- 
 treating tribe, gave them a sound punishment, and 
 returned home. Other duties soon effaced the mem- 
 ory of the affair, and we concluded that for some time 
 at least nothing would be heard of the offending bracks. 
 The season proved a very dry one, and I found myself 
 obliged to erect temporary yards and huts on the very 
 outskirts of the run, in order to make use of hitherto 
 unoccupied ground. One station in particular I had 
 caused to be built several miles up the river, beyond 
 the spot now known as 'Donnelly's grave.' It was 
 difficult of access. A short distance above that well- 
 remembered spot, the mountains closed so abruptly 
 on both sides of the creek, that the only passage lay 
 among the rough boulders and shingle of the river- 
 bed. I had been up counting the sheep, and left the
 
 174 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 hut at dark on my road home. The distance before 
 me was about sixteen miles. I rode along, my mind 
 occupied with conjectures as to the best disposal of 
 my sheep during the trying drought. The road now 
 turned down into the river-bed, and picking his way 
 the best he could, my horse cheerfully jogged on his 
 homeward path. The mountains towered in shadowy 
 gloom on either side above me as I rode along the 
 side of the river, which, although considerably shrunk 
 by reason of the summer droughts, churned and foamed 
 as its rapid current forced its way through its rock- 
 barred channel. Occasionally the track led through 
 clumps of river-oak saplings and bushes, emerging from 
 which I could discover a bare patch of sand, and be- 
 yond that shadow. My horse knew the road, how- 
 ever, and I cared not ; half my time was spent in 
 similar lonely rides, and I was not nervous. I was 
 getting mightily hungry, however, besides which, the 
 mail-man was expected at the station, and I longed 
 to read my home letters. My horse's shoes clattered 
 against the stones as I stuck my spurs into his sides 
 to urge him onward. A sudden turning in the road 
 now showed me a number of small fires glowing 
 ahead. But that they were stationary, I should have 
 been inclined to think them caused by fire -flies. On 
 my left there were more. The sudden turning of the 
 river had placed some in front and some behind, and
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYERS YARN CONTINUED. 175 
 
 hitherto the thick groves of flooded oak had hidden 
 them from my sight. On my right frowned an over- 
 hanging crag. I drew my rein ; perhaps (for blacks 
 often chatter loudly in their camps) they had not 
 heard me. I listened. Not a sound save the rushing, 
 tumbling, river - current. It was, after all, perhaps 
 only the remains of a bush-fire. Some of the logs 
 were still alight, and the night air had fanned the 
 embers into a glow. Again I listened intently. If 
 blacks really were in the camp, they must have heard 
 me coming ; no doubt they had barrred the way ahead 
 and behind. The broken river-channel forbade my 
 trusting to flight. What should I do ? Not three 
 miles away lay poor Donnelly their victim, in his cold 
 grave of wet river-sand. What w^as his fate then, 
 might be mine in a few minutes. I determined to 
 keep still and wait for what might turn up. Presently 
 I heard bushes rustling some distance behind, and the 
 voice of a black fellow, uttering, in that strange tone 
 in which the wild savage first pronounces English 
 words, ' Boodgeree ; ' and again ' Boodgeree, white 
 fellow ' (good, good white fellow). The sound startled 
 me. They were here, and looking for me. I drew 
 my pistol. Some of them should have daylight 
 through them, I inwardly vowed, if it came to a final 
 struggle. Now I heard their low rapid utterances, in 
 various excited tones, in front, behind, and above me.
 
 176 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 — the word ' white fellow ' being repeated often. 
 Escape was hopeless. There was one chance for life 
 in the inconsistency of their behaviour. I determined 
 to put a bold face on the matter, appear at home, 
 laugh and talk with them, and if the worst came, sell 
 my life as dearly as possible. Accordingly I shouted, 
 * Hey ! come on boodgeree you, my boys, come along ! ' 
 and a great deal more nonsensical talk, which they 
 could not have understood, but which served as well 
 as anything else to show the confidence which I tried 
 to gull them into believing I yet possessed. The 
 effect was magical. A simultaneous shout came from 
 those nearest. All around, in fifty different places, 
 as many voices broke into an unintelligible jargon ; 
 while from the camp, the noise of women's voices 
 could be heard as they shrilly inquired what was 
 going on, and tendered advice or admonition. 
 
 " Knowing how useless it was to do anything else, I 
 sat still on my horse, and in a few minutes was sur- 
 rounded by a dense crowd of dark, savage-eyed, wild 
 men, all fully armed with native weapons. More kept 
 coming. There was a perfect Babel of sounds. The 
 gloom was so great that I could only distinguish the 
 dark moving figures and the long spears, or occasionally 
 the glint of a pair of fierce glittering eyes, shining out 
 of a paint-bedaubed visage. Now they felt me all 
 over. On feeling the pistol, which I had returned to
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YARN CONTINUED. 177 
 
 my belt, the man who discovered it said something to 
 the others, who became still more excited. They now 
 led me, still sitting on my horse, across a ford of the 
 river to their camp. And now for the first time I 
 ' could see the faces of my captors ; and wild and 
 devil-like they looked as the fires threw their light 
 across them. Thick masses of curly black hair, low 
 foreheads, short noses, large white teeth, and short 
 beards on the upper lip and chin, seemed to strike 
 me most; their eyes gleamed in the fire-blaze like 
 burning coals. A tall man, looking at me earnestly 
 for some minutes, now commenced an animated har- 
 angue; pointed to me several times, then pointing 
 up the river, imitated the sound of a gun being fired, 
 pointed to himself, and finished by addressing me 
 rapidly at great length. From his manner I guessed 
 that he was friendly to me for some cause or other, 
 why, I could not make out, but I determined to take 
 advantage of the turn in my favour. My tall friend 
 now made signs that I should dismount: this I did 
 at once. I had made up my mind to trust my pro- 
 tector implicitly, and at any rate not to show fear. 
 I was by no means easy, however, as my sable friend 
 led me through the scattered fires, surrounded by 
 a number of blacks, who, as far as I could guess, 
 seemed to coincide with him in his views regarding 
 me. Most of the mob had departed to the fires 
 
 VOL. L M
 
 178 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 which appeared behind me when I first came upon 
 the natives. 
 
 " I found that there were two camps at a distance 
 of about two hundred yards apart, and my people 
 belonged to the small camp. We now arrived at a 
 fire which, from the signs made, I found was owned 
 by the tall fellow with me. He made a series of 
 gestures, by which I understood him to intimate that 
 I was to partake of his hospitality. The only word 
 of English he knew was ' white fellow.' This he re- 
 peated many times. Sometimes he pointed to me, 
 then to himself, patted his breast and smiled; then 
 he would point to the distant camp, and shake his 
 head, and frown. Sometimes he pointed to himself, 
 imitated the sound of a shot, pointed to my pistol, 
 then up the river, then again to me, looking eagerly 
 at me to see whether I comprehended him or not. I 
 knew not what he meant, but I feigned to understand 
 him, and nodded, smiled, patted him, and repeated the 
 word ' boodgeree ' two or three times. He at once 
 caught up the word and pronounced it distinctly, and 
 seemed much pleased. Things now seemed on a much 
 more satisfactory footing. My entertainer produced 
 some black-looking kangaroo-meat, which he warmed 
 on the hot ashes, then tearing off a piece with his 
 strong teeth, he offered it to me. Knowing how 
 necessary it was to keep up the terms of friendship,
 
 THE CATTLE-BUYEE'S YARN CONTINUED. 179 
 
 I accepted it with mucli cordiality, and though almost 
 sick, managed to eat a portion of the dirty-looking 
 food. A drink of honey and water was now offered 
 me in a cooleman, which I also politely accepted. 
 After the repast a number of aboriginals from the 
 neighbouring fires gathered around me, and from their 
 language seemed to be making fun of me. One fellow 
 especially seemed a great wit. The slightest word of 
 his sufficed to set the others in a roar of laughter. 
 Still it all seemed to be of a good-humoured nature. 
 Presently my tall acquaintance, pointing over to the 
 other camp, made signs that there was a corroborree to 
 be danced. I understood, and nodded. Then he gave 
 me to understand that he and I would go together; 
 to this I also assented. Soon after this a long clear 
 cry arose from the other camp like pir-r-r-r-r-r-r. *A 
 general movement now took place among the men 
 and women of the camp in which I was. They 
 gathered in a body, each one covered from head to 
 foot in a 'possum-skin cloak. I arose with my host, 
 who bestowed on me a cloak, and we took our places 
 a little on one side of the rest. Another signal arose 
 from the distant camp, and, as if in obedience to it, 
 my neighbours commenced to march slowly forward 
 towards whence the sound proceeded. Slowly, silently, 
 solemnly, they marched, their bodies bent almost double, 
 which position my friend signed me to observe. There
 
 180 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 was something very unearthly in this phantom-like 
 procession, — the dusky, indistinct, muffled forms glid- 
 ing noiselessly forward through the midnight woods, 
 sometimes entirely lost in the shade of a large tree, 
 and again emerging, to be lost again. 
 
 " Fears began to take possession of me. Why was 
 this singular method of approaching the corrdbor- 
 ree ground observed ? I had heard of ceremonies of 
 a dark and secret character being practised amongst 
 those tribes at which no white man ever was present. 
 Was such a one to take place now ? Was my life 
 only spared before that it might be sacrificed now? 
 My blood began to curdle, and my flesh to creep. 
 I thought of flying, forgetting for the moment the 
 utter impossibility of getting away from the nimble- 
 footed sharp-eyed savages. My tall friend, however, 
 seemed to divine my intentions, for he patted my 
 breast, then pointed to himself assuringly, then to 
 the large camp of natives which we were nearing, 
 and shook his head, spitting with apparent disgust, 
 and once more patted himself and me. I could not 
 exactly tell what he was driving at, but it seemed 
 to indicate friendly intentions towards myself, and 
 that the other camp was occupied by a hostile tribe. 
 This I afterwards learnt was the case. We had 
 approached within about a dozen yards of the dim 
 fires towards which we had been making our way,
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YARN CONTINUED. 181 
 
 when a similar signal to that already given was 
 uttered by some one in the other camp. Upon 
 this my companions, still retaining their bent posi- 
 tion, turned their faces towards their own camp, 
 and remained waiting, and of course I followed 
 their example. Another cry succeeded, and almost 
 immediately a bright blaze followed, illuminating 
 the dark woods in a ruddy circle. Flinging off 
 their coverings, and turning simultaneously round, 
 the crowd of blacks about me gave vent to a 
 general deep ' Ah ! ' of wonder and surprise, not 
 unmixed with a superstitious fear. 
 
 " I understood it all now. The tribe were being initi- 
 ated in a corroborree they had never seen before. At 
 the same time it commenced. A half-circle of fires 
 burned brightly in front of us. Between us and the 
 fires were seated rows of women, across whose knees 
 were lightly stretched their 'possum cloaks. They 
 held boomerangs in their hands, which they beat 
 together as they sang, keeping the mosc exact time, 
 occasionally varying the accompaniment by beating 
 on the skins, producing a drum -like noise. On the 
 far side of the fire a row of forked stakes had been 
 driven into the ground, and poles laid on the forks, 
 about six feet above the ground. About twenty 
 savages, painted in the most grotesque fashion, 
 were seated all round this rail. Their long hair
 
 182 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 was tied tightly in a knot on the top of their 
 heads, from the middle of which rose a tuft of 
 cockatoo crests. The soft white down from the 
 hreast of the same hird clung to their eyebrows, 
 moustaches, and beards. A red fillet passed round 
 the forehead and encircled the head. Their bodies 
 were painted with pipeclay to imitate skeletons. 
 Boomerangs, stone tomahawks, and knives hung 
 from their girdles. Holding their elbows close to 
 their sides, they moved their forearms and hands 
 in a segment of a circle from their waist to their 
 ears, first the right, then the left, in time to the 
 barbarous chant. Beyond these, the chief figures 
 in the assembly, stood a dense crowd of fierce-eyed 
 sable warriors leaning on their spears. Looking 
 round, I found that the men of my party had 
 assumed the same attitude, while the women had 
 taken up a position a little apart. 
 
 "In spite of the feeling of insecurity and alarm 
 with which my position filled me, — for I knew that 
 all present would think nothing of knocking me on 
 the head if the whim seized them, — I felt rather 
 amused at the absurd climax of their preparations, 
 and its monotony soon got tiresome to themselves. 
 Jumping down from their perch, the painted savages 
 cleared away their posts and rails, and commenced 
 one of the usual corroborree dances of the country,
 
 THE cattle-buyer's YARN CONTINUED. 183 
 
 in which they were joined by many others, who had 
 taken no part in the first performance. 
 
 " My tall friend, spreading his rug on the ground, 
 planted a spear at each corner and sat down, motion- 
 ing me to take a place beside him — all the others 
 following his example. The dance was now most 
 vigorously prosecuted, and it carried with it a 
 certain amount of dramatic effect. Issuing from 
 the dark background of solemn gloom, the mass of 
 vague dusky shadows danced their way into the 
 circle illuminated by the fire, their hands held in 
 front of their breast, after the manner of kangaroos, 
 their bodies bent, and their feet stamping. As they 
 got nearer the fires which divided them from the 
 orchestra, the singing and dancing became more 
 energetic, till at last a brilliant blaze having* been 
 produced, by means of dry leaves kept on purpose, 
 the whole culminated in much stamping, quivering 
 of legs and shaking of heads, winding up with an 
 almost instantaneous disappearance of the whole 
 party into surrounding darkness. This was repeated 
 for hours, and I thought they never would leave off. 
 At last all seemed to weary, and my tall friend and 
 his followers returned to their own ground, taking 
 me with them. Here I found my horse ready. After 
 a good deal more of talk, and many gestures, he signi- 
 fied that I might go. I stripped myself almost naked
 
 184 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 in making presents. Then seizing his weapons, he 
 called on a friend to accompany him, and both came 
 with me as an escort. I had little difficulty in 
 persuading them to proceed all the way ; and they 
 were so much pleased with their treatment that 
 they asked permission to bring their tribe in, which 
 they did, and we had no more difficulties afterwards." 
 
 " That was a capital fellow, that long nigger," said 
 Fitzgerald. "Did you ever find out why he took a 
 fancy to you ? " 
 
 "Oh," said Thompson, laughing, "that was all a 
 mistake on his part. It seems that when up the 
 riv^r in pursuit of the tribe which killed poor Don- 
 nelly, he happened to be among the crowd we 
 attacked. He had hidden himself under a log upon 
 which I had taken up my position. He said that 
 I kept looking at him, but allowed him to escape, 
 and it was in gratitude for this supposed service 
 that he saved my life." 
 
 " Then you did not know that he was under the 
 log?" asked John. 
 
 " Not I," returned the other. " It would, I am 
 afraid, have been a bad day for both of us had I 
 done so. And now, Fitzgerald, give us your yarn." 
 
 " It's getting late," the young man said, " and you 
 know we must be up early ; but the story is a short 
 one." So saying, he narrated as follows.
 
 Fitzgerald's yarn. 185 
 
 " I suppose you know that I'm a beak — I mean, that 
 I'm on the Commission of the Peace. I was appointed 
 about two years and a half ago. Shortly after my 
 appointment I was over in the little township of Yer- 
 ing, not far from here, and a desperate row occurred 
 between two men. One of them seizing an axe struck 
 the other on the head, causing instantaneous death. 
 I happened to be near the scene of the fatal struggle, 
 and made one to seize the murderer ; and being very 
 zealous in the discharge of my duties, like most young 
 hands, made myself perhaps too officious in the matter. 
 At any rate, on leaving the court, after committal for 
 trial by my brother magistrates and myself, the mur- 
 derer vowed to be revenged on me for the share which 
 I had taken in the business. I thought nothing more 
 of it, and time passed on. About four months* ago 
 I was obliged to start from here up north on some 
 business connected with a station belonging to my 
 father. It had been only recently formed, and the 
 natives had the reputation of being very treacherous 
 in the district. My business led me to a neighbouring 
 station, and as I believed that the way by the road 
 was very much longer than the actual distance as the 
 crow flies, I determined to hit out straight across the 
 bush. It was nearly dinner-time when I set out, and 
 I had about forty miles to go. I had gone about 
 twenty miles, when I got into a nasty intricate coun-
 
 186 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 try, with a good deal of thick scrub, in which I got 
 entangled, and it was a couple of hours after dark 
 before I got clear. I now pushed on as well as I 
 could in the dark, but got so very sleepy that I had 
 made up my mind to lie down until morning, when 
 the sound of voices made me prick up my ears, and 
 on moving forward a little, found myself close to a 
 large camp of niggers. Well, I was luckier than yon, 
 Thompson, for I managed to get away without their 
 hearing me, and I pushed on, for sleep had fled. I 
 had gone about ten miles further when my horse 
 struck into a little path, and the smell of sheep con- 
 vinced me that I was near some sheep-station hut, 
 or hark gunyali. Dogs now barked furiously, and a 
 man shouted, which I immediately answered. I rode 
 up, unsaddled and hobbled my horse, and walked in. 
 
 " Who do you think the man was ? It was my 
 friend the homicide. The meeting was startling to 
 both. The wild look of the man, with his gun in 
 his hand (he had seized it on hearing the noise made 
 by the dogs), at first led me to believe that he meant 
 to fulfil his vows of vengeance ; but suddenly flinging 
 it into a corner, he sat down, covered his face with his 
 hands, and wept. When he grew calmer he told me 
 that he had been sentenced to nearly two years' im- 
 prisonment, and had come straight here from prison ; 
 but he begged my forgiveness, and said I had only
 
 Fitzgerald's yarn. 187 
 
 done my duty. I camped with him that night, and 
 next morning made the station." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said John, " I think it must have heen 
 horrid to meet that fellow in such a lonely place." 
 
 " Well, yes, I didn't like it," returned his friend. 
 
 The party now separated to obtain some sleep before 
 the arduous work of mustering commenced.
 
 188 
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER — DRAFTING ON 
 
 THE CAMP. 
 
 The dawn was barely visible when our hero was awak- 
 ened by hearing a sound of conversation near him. It 
 was Fitzgerald giving orders to one of the blackboys. 
 
 " Horses in the yard, Peter ? " 
 
 " Yohi." 
 
 " Bugler and Gaylad in ? " 
 
 " Yohi." 
 
 "All right. Take down my bridle and the bridle 
 which belongs to that gentleman w^ho came with me 
 last night, and send them up." 
 
 " Yohi, Missa Fitzgell. Me ride 'im, Charcoal. That 
 fellow boodgeree kallopp." 
 
 " Very well ; and tell one of the other boys to catch 
 Forrester for Mr Thompson." 
 
 John now jumped out of bed, and hurrying on his 
 things, made his way outside. The sun had not risen, 
 but everybody was astir. Blackboys were bringing up
 
 MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER. 189 
 
 horses from a yard in the paddock, into which they 
 had all been driven. Breakfast was being carried in, 
 and every one w^as preparing for the day's work. After 
 a hasty meal was disposed of, the horses were saddled. 
 The little court in front of the houses was crowded 
 with horses awaiting their riders. The party consisted 
 of Fitzgerald, Thompson, West, two white stockmen, 
 one of whom was Fitzgerald's lad Tommy. Besides 
 these and their horses, Mr Williams's saddle and pack 
 horse swelled the number. 
 
 A general mount was now effected, and, bidding 
 good-bye to his entertainer, Williams started on his 
 way down country. 
 
 "Now, Tommy," said Fitzgerald, speaking to the 
 youth just mentioned, "we are going to divide. You, 
 with Mr Thompson and Billy Barlow, can go up to the 
 Peaks, then start down, bringing all you see worth 
 taking along with you. Send Billy over to Oakey 
 Creek, and let him meet you down at Plumtree Camp. 
 You can clean out the middle branch of the station 
 creek, and then bring all you find down to the main 
 camp, where you will find us." 
 
 These directions, which, perhaps, may seem unin- 
 telligible to the general reader, referred to the manner 
 in which the young squatter proposed to gather together 
 the cattle among which he expected to collect the bul- 
 locks he required.
 
 190 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 The two parties now separated — Fitzgerald with his 
 assistants to examine the southern branch of the main 
 creek, together with the country lying between the 
 many tributaries which flowed into it ; while the 
 others were to direct their attention to the opposite 
 side and the surrounding country. It was most ex- 
 hilarating riding along in the cool morning air. How 
 pleasant the fresh smgU of the grass ! Now they pass 
 through a small patch of Brigalow scrub. Some one 
 has split a piece from the trunk of a small tree. What 
 a scent the dark-grained wood has ! What numbers 
 of wallabies ! They start out in every direction, and 
 flying across the path swiftly disappear. We are in 
 grass once more. Whirr-r-r-r — a covey of quail start 
 from under the horses' feet, fly a short distance, and 
 alight on the thick grass. There are some cattle 
 standing in their camp on a small patch of scrub. 
 We don't want them, however — we can get them any 
 day. Here is one standing by himself It is a two- 
 year-old steer — a white one. He stands perfectly still ; 
 his hanging head and tucked-up body betray his want 
 of health. As we ride past he shows the white of his 
 eye, and gathering up his strength, he gives a deep 
 hollow cough which rakes his whole frame. " Pleura," 
 said Fitzgerald, reading John's inquiring glance ; '' we 
 always have it more or less on the run." 
 
 " Does it not carry off immense numbers of cattle ? "
 
 MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER. 191 
 
 " Well, it has done so ; but for some years past we 
 find its ravages have been nothing to speak of. A 
 great deal has been written on the subject. Some 
 have proposed preventing the attacks of the disease 
 by inoculation ; others, again, laugh at the idea. For 
 my part, I am convinced that pleura lurks in every 
 herd in the country, and that it only wants favourable 
 conditions to make its appearance." 
 
 " What are these conditions ? " asked John. 
 
 " Much knocking about invariably produces it ; for 
 instance, it often breaks out amongst cattle on a long 
 journey, or that have been herded long. It is also 
 much more severe among cattle feeding on rich swampy 
 pastures than on the high hilly stations. Besides 
 which, there is no doubt, I think, that it is both con- 
 tagious and infectious, and, of course, some constitu- 
 tions have a hereditary tendency to it." 
 
 Now they emerge on a plain bounded by scrub, 
 with openings between the patches, and vistas of 
 plains and more scrub in the distance. On the plain, 
 about half a mile away on the right, a large herd of 
 cattle are scattered, gently feeding towards their camp. 
 What a delightful spot for a gallop ! How fresh the 
 horses are ! Gaylad feels as if he could devour the 
 space between him and that beautiful blue chain 
 whose distant peaks glitter in the morning sunshine. 
 " Way, horse ; steady, Gaylad, — you'll have your work
 
 192 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 to do by-and-by." See, there is a plain turkey, quite 
 close; he walks steadily along, keeping his head up 
 and his eye fixed on us. He is quite within shot. 
 There, there, unobserved before, but almost under your 
 horse's feet, is his mate. Startled by the horses, she 
 quickens her pace, breaks into a run, opens her large 
 wings, beats the air two or three times, and rising, 
 wings her way heavily off, followed almost immedi- 
 ately by her companion, uttering a kind of hoarse 
 croak. There they light again, not a quarter of a 
 mile away. Now we come to a water-course. It is 
 a succession of longish holes filled with clear water. 
 Trees, with drooping branches like willows, fringe its 
 sides. The broad leaf of the lotus, amid which rises 
 here and there the beautiful flower, floats on the sur- 
 face. Look at the wild ducks swimming in twos and 
 threes. Stay for one instant. There, on that broad 
 lotus-leaf, two or three little mites of wild ducklings 
 are sitting. Their mother, with the rest of the family, 
 is floating calmly beside them.- Her quick eye notes 
 us ; she moves away, her little brood following. Now 
 those on the leaf plunge in and swim bravely after 
 her, shaking their little tails. The other ducks, 
 catching the alarm, at once detect the cause. A sud- 
 den splash, a few frightened quacks, and away they 
 fly, the water dripping brightly from their webbed 
 feet as they rise, with the sunlight glinting on their
 
 MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER. 193 
 
 dark-brown bodies and blue and bronze wings. There 
 they go, out of sight in a minute. The mother and 
 her brood have vanished in the same instant. You 
 may search, but you will not find them. The little 
 things understand diving as well as their mother, and 
 the banks of the creek are one mass of sedges and 
 long grass. Watch, here come the ducks back again. 
 
 High in the air they approach, following the course 
 of the creek with the rapidity of lightning. Here 
 they come, right overhead ; a confused whizz denotes 
 _ the speed they are travelling at, and down the water- 
 course they take their way to alight in some undis- 
 turbed spot. 
 
 As you leave the water, pigeons of all kinds, from 
 
 the strong beautiful bronze-wing to the gentle squatter 
 
 and little dove, fly from under your horse's feet, \7ith 
 
 strong rapid flapping noise, or sit crouching on the 
 
 ground, humbly hoping that their insignificance aud 
 
 homely plumage will not attract attention. A white 
 
 crane, and a few dark-feathered water-hens, at the far 
 
 end of the water-hole, seeing you moving, conclude to 
 
 stay. Here is the half-dried carcass of a beast. It 
 
 died here on the camp near the water. "Whew, what 
 
 a smell ! Any one who wants more than one whiff 
 
 of that is a glutton. Look at that " booming 'guana ! " 
 
 He has been feeding sumptuously on the carrion. He 
 
 is watching us with his " glittering eye," his head up, 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Lis vicious tongue darting out now and then like a 
 serpent's fangs. He knows we are observing him ; 
 off he scuttles at an incredibly swift pace, making for 
 that big iron-bark tree. Gallop after ; hit him with 
 your whip. Ah, you are too late ! he has reached it 
 before you ; he is away up lying flat on a high branch. 
 You can just see the end of his tapered tail hanging 
 over, or his head, the tongue still striking venomously. 
 Now we emerge on still larger downs, dotted prettily 
 with cotton bush. Cattle -tracks converge from all 
 points to the water. They are quite narrow, like little 
 footpaths. The ground bears on its surface the im- 
 pressions of many feet. You cannot find a foot square 
 without the print of a hoof of some age or another. 
 The grass must be sweet here, the cattle keep it 
 cropped down so closely. That long line of tall 
 white- stemmed gum-trees marks the banks of the 
 main creek ; here is the junction of the southern and 
 northern branches. We must cross and follow up 
 this branch next us. Yonder is a mob of cattle ; they 
 are not so quiet as those we have already seen. Two 
 or three old cows nearer us than the others lift their 
 heads, smelling our approach. They turn and run. 
 The old brutes, they know quite well what it is to be 
 rounded up ; they have been hundreds of times in the 
 yard ; it is all roguery. Now that some of the rest 
 notice them running, they run also : had the old cows
 
 MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER. 195 
 
 remained quiet the others would have been stationary 
 too. Now they are making off in a body. Sam, the 
 white stockman with the party, and Peter the black 
 fellow, mounted on Charcoal, spur after them, get in 
 front, and heading them, bring them to a stand-still. 
 There are a dozen nice bullocks in the mob. After 
 making them stand a little to cool them, Peter is sent 
 to take them over the river to a camp, where they may 
 be picked up by the party on their return down the 
 other side. The party divide once more in two. Sam 
 and Peter go one way ; John still remains with his 
 friend, and they have two or three exciting gallops after 
 different mobs. Gaylad is sweating now. What a 
 little stunner he is ! It will not be his fault if the 
 cattle get away. He watches their every movement 
 with a personal interest. Fitzgerald and John have got 
 a good mob together. They have taken them across 
 the creek, and are bringing them down the other 
 side to pick up the cattle on the camps there. The 
 bullocks and steers and heifers go along without 
 much trouble ; but some of those old cows with 
 calves try all sorts of dodges to get away. They 
 fear that we are mustering for branding. It will 
 come soon enough. Let us get through with these 
 fat cattle, then we shall set to work branding. There, 
 that cunning old wretch of a cow has managed to 
 to slip away with her calf, and she is making off for
 
 196 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 some scrub in the distance. Now, Gaylad ; now, boy, 
 fetch her back. Indeed Gaylad wants no bidding, 
 but is flying over the ground at his best. Now he 
 reaches the cow and her calf, a good strong six-months- 
 old bull. She swerves away as the horse approaches. 
 Now is your time, John ; close on her, turn her, keep 
 her head to the mob ; give her a cut or two with your 
 whip, and she will be amongst them once more. 
 Ah ! you do not know how to manage your rein : 
 your bridle-hand is fumbling with it ; it is too loose ; 
 your whip is in your way. Gaylad flies past the cow 
 about twenty yards ; she once more makes off in her 
 own direction. Once more John charges her with the 
 same result, only that this time, as he holds the rein 
 tighter, Gaylad, obeying the check, props round at the 
 same instant the old cow does. John finds himself 
 sitting on his horse's neck ; it is a miracle how he 
 holds on. He manages to get back to his seat, and 
 confining operations to a trot, succeeds in heading the 
 chase back towards the mob. He will punish her at 
 any rate for the trouble she has given him. Two or 
 three desperate cuts at the cow fall harmlessly, another 
 only gets the lash under Gaylad's tail, who resents 
 the indignity by kicking once or twice, humping his 
 back, and nearly upsetting his rider. Now is a good 
 chance ; hit her hard. A vicious cut follows. Some- 
 thing catches the fall. " heavens, my eye ! " shouts
 
 MUSTERING FATS FOR THE BUTCHER. 197 
 
 John, with one hand up to that organ, which has 
 suffered instead of the guilty animal. 
 
 Now a camp with a good many cattle on it has been 
 reached. Sam and Peter have evidently been here, 
 and are away after more. The cattle stop of their own 
 accord, mingling with the rest, uttering many bellows 
 of greeting. Fitzgerald proposes to wait for a little. 
 What a thorough master of his work he looks, as with 
 careless ease he sits side-saddle fashion on Bugler, his 
 long whip hanging festooned round him ! Hark ! 
 there goes a whip ! The cattle on the camp recom- 
 mence bellowing. Here they come down this gully — 
 the bullocks and young cattle ahead, running towards 
 those on the camp, roaring as they run. A mixed lot, 
 with many cows and calves bring up the rear, after 
 which come Sam and Peter, riding side by side. 
 There are so many cows and calves, it is not advis- 
 able to drive them as far as the main creek. We 
 don't intend taking them home for branding to-day. 
 We cannot draft the bullocks out properly here 
 though ; we require all hands for that. Let us keep 
 as many as we can of the others back on the camp, 
 therefore, when they start. It is not quite easily done 
 either; for with stranger perversity those even who 
 wanted to stay behind previously now desire to go 
 along with the mob, and insist on following up, until 
 they are effectually driven back to their camp. We
 
 198 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 have yet a large number, and still pick up more as we 
 go along. Gay lad makes himself very busy in assisting 
 to drive. Should any beast in his vicinity lag behind 
 to crop a sweet morsel he marks him ; then laying his 
 ears back, with outstretched neck and open mouth, he 
 rushes at the offender, inflicting sometimes a rather 
 sharp bite. The loud pistol-like report of a stock-whip 
 is heard again, this time ahead. The leading cattle 
 quicken their pace. Bellows in the distance are 
 answered by bellows from the mob. We come in 
 sight of a large number of cattle standing close to- 
 gether on an open yet shady camp ; and some distance 
 apart, under a shady tree, are three horses. Their 
 riders are lying on the ground. The two mobs mingle 
 now, amid terrific roaring, as we ride up to the little 
 party under the tree. 
 
 " Well, Thompson, had much luck ? " 
 " Got about sixty or seventy head, I think." 
 " There are forty or fifty in our lot," said Fitzgerald ; 
 *'we had better set to work at once. It will take all 
 our time to get them drafted and yarded before it gets 
 late." 
 
 Now they prepare for work. John, with the lad 
 Tommy and Billy Barlow, is told off to ride round 
 the cattle, and prevent them straggling off the camp. 
 Peter is to look after the bullocks when separated from 
 the main crowd ; and Fitzgerald, Thompson, and Sam,
 
 DRAFTING ON THE CAMP. 199 
 
 'are to draft. A few very quiet animals are driven 
 out, and placed at about one hundred and fifty yards 
 from the rest, to form a kind of nucleus mob for the 
 bullocks to run into. Peter is in attendance to re- 
 ceive them when they come, and prevent their mak- 
 ing back, or running away. 
 
 Now, threading his way through the masses of 
 cattle, Fitzgerald selects one which his practised eye 
 tells him is of the kind wanted, and, riding behind it, 
 urges it quietly to the edge of the mob. Bugler knows 
 his work, and loves it with all his heart. His undi- 
 vided attention is given to the animal in front of him. 
 He is aware that it is his duty to separate him from 
 the herd, and he is determined to do it. Any dodging 
 movement on the part of the bullock, as, looking from 
 side to side, he approaches the outside ring, is met 
 with a corresponding motion to balk it on the horse's 
 part, revealing the intense interest he takes in his 
 work. A slight raising of the bridle-hand, and Bugler 
 makes a desperate rush. Startled, the beast singles 
 out from the rest, but immediately tries to double 
 back, and mix up with his fellows. In vain — Bugler's 
 quick eye watches him too narrowly ; he has turned 
 in the same instant, and is raciog alongside, between 
 him and his bellowing mates. Now, so suddenly as 
 to be almost instantaneous, the determined brute has 
 stopped, wheeled round, and is going at a headlong
 
 200 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 pace the opposite way. But it is all of no use. The 
 practised stock-horse props at the same moment, and 
 still at speed bars the way. A few sharp cuts from 
 Fitzgerald's whip decide the question, and the con- 
 quered creature joins a couple of his mates who have 
 been taken out respectively by Thompson and Sam, and 
 who are now running to mingle with Peter's charge. 
 
 Hiding back slowly to breathe their nags, the draft- 
 ers single out more of the particular class wanted, 
 and the scene is repeated. The ground resounds with 
 the rapid battering of the horses' feet, as, stretched 
 at their utmost speed, the intelligent creatures assist 
 their riders with all their might. It is a stirring 
 scene, full of healthy enjoyment and wild excitement. 
 
 " How these Australian fellows do ride ! " thought 
 John, as he notices the sudden dead -stop and sharp 
 wheel, the rider sitting unmoved in his saddle. Look, 
 there is a bullock which has proved too much for 
 Thompson single-handed. He is a large roan bullock, 
 with a red neck, and long, sharp, cocked horns. He is 
 six or perhaps seven years old. He is one that has 
 been missing from the run for the last year or two, 
 and has been seen to-day for the first time during that 
 period. Most probably he has been away in the scrub 
 with a wild mob, and in an evil hour has taken it into 
 his head to revisit his old haunts. His temper has not 
 been improved by his association with the scrubbers.
 
 DRAFTING ON THE CAMP. 201 
 
 See, he turns on Thompson. What a narrow escape ! 
 Forrester manages to get out of his way, but receives 
 an ugly scar on his thigh, which he will carry while 
 he lives. 
 
 Sam now bears down to Thompson's assistance. 
 Eoaney is once again cut out of the mob. Watch — 
 now — here ! here ! here they come ! The wild-looking 
 roan bullock endeavours to break back, while Sam 
 races alongside, his body bent forward, uttering short, 
 fierce, quick shouts, as, waving his hat in his hand, 
 he seeks to intimidate the savage scrubber into sheer- 
 ing off from the main mob. What a pace they are 
 going at ! There they pass side by side between two 
 trees, that barely allow them room. The leg of Sam's 
 white moleskins brushes the fire-blackened trunk, and 
 adopts its colour. A sudden fierce prop, and Eoaney 
 has shot behind Sam's horse, and succeeds in burying 
 himself among the many - coloured bellowing herd. 
 Sam rides slowly back, and, dismounting, slackens 
 the girths of his steaming horse, who, with hanging 
 head and quickly-heaving flanks, betrays the exertions 
 he has made. 
 
 Thompson and Fitzgerald come up. " That's a nut," 
 remarks the former. 
 
 "He's the dead finish — go right through a man," 
 rejoins Sam, rather sulkily. "Blessed if he didn't 
 near skiver my hoss ! "
 
 202 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 " Well, Sam, as soon as your horse gets his wind, 
 you and I will tackle him," says Fitzgerald. "Our 
 horses are the handiest. I wouldn't lose that fellow 
 for a trifle. Ten to one, if we don't get him, after 
 this knocking about he'll make back for the scrubs 
 again." 
 
 In about ten minutes' time Sam and his master ride 
 side by side through the crowded camp. At last they 
 notice their savage friend pushing his way through 
 a thick mob of cattle some distance from them. 
 
 "Now, Sam," says Fitzgerald, "as soon as we get 
 him fairly out, I'll ride alongside and shoulder him, 
 and you must keep close up and play on him with 
 your whip." 
 
 " All right," growls Sam. 
 
 One or two essays are ineffectually made to rush 
 out into the open the huge beast, whose hot blood is 
 now boiling within him. At last he is out, and is 
 again racing, with Fitzgerald alongside this time, to 
 get back into the mob. 
 
 " Now, then, Sam ! " shouts the squatter, as the 
 clever bold horse, in obedience to his accomplished 
 rider, closes on his horned antagonist, and, leaning 
 over, presses all his weight against the scrubber's 
 shoulder, edging him towards Peter's mob as they 
 fly along. Sam, galloping at the creature's heels, has 
 been waiting the word, and now commences a flagella-
 
 DRAFTING ON THE CAMP. 203 
 
 tion with his long twelve- footer, which compels the 
 red-necked savage to keep his pace up, and gladly 
 seek refuge among those already out. 
 
 It is now time to be making homewards, and the 
 selected fat cattle are driven steadily in, and yarded 
 for the night.
 
 204 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 OUT AFTER SCRUBBERS THROUGH THE BUSH THE SOLEMN 
 
 SCRUB — CAMPING OUT. 
 
 Daylight once more saw the Ungahrun household 
 up and busy. Once more there was saddling in hot 
 haste ; a hurried meal ; blankets and provisions 
 strapped on to the pack-horse's saddle. Thompson 
 was starting down with a draft of 110 head for the 
 pots — prime fat cattle. Fitzgerald and John, with 
 one of the men, accompany him for a few miles. The 
 cattle are going quietly ; even Eoaney, who made one 
 or two determined efforts to break away on his road 
 in the previous night, is marching along steadily, now 
 that he is off his own beat. 
 
 " I think you can get along all right now, Thomp- 
 son," remarks the squatter. "I'll leave a man with 
 you for to-day, and you can send him home to-morrow. 
 Your own man and blackboy will be sufficient then." 
 
 Good-byes are exchanged — arrangements as to fur- 
 ther drafts once more hurriedly gone over, and the
 
 OUT AFTER SCEUBBEKS. 205 
 
 Australian and his guest turn their horses' heads 
 homewards. And now there is nothing to hinder the 
 commencement of the usual half-yearly muster to 
 brand. Fitzgerald is most anxious to try his luck 
 amongst the scrub cattle, of which great numbers in- 
 fest the vast scrubs which clothe the steep sides of the 
 distant blue ranges. He has information that at one 
 point many of these scrub cattle come out at night to 
 feed on the open plains, and he is desirous, if possible, 
 of making a haul amongst them. 
 
 He explains to John that the scrubs are pieces of 
 country, thickly covered for the most part with a lux- 
 uriant vegetation, affording an almost impenetrable 
 shelter to the wild herds. Some of these densely tim- 
 bered tracts enclose within their recesses a sufficiency 
 both of water and feed to pasture considerable num- 
 bers without rendering it necessary for them to seek 
 a livelihood outside its limits. It often happens, 
 nevertheless, that, driven by drought, or tempted by 
 the young and tender burnt feed, these denizens of the 
 wood are found grazing on the clear country, but never 
 at any great distance from cover, to which they can 
 make on being disturbed. 
 
 These cattle are invariably part of a herd, or the 
 descendants of a herd, which, neglected by its owners, 
 was suffered to stray over the country at its pleasure, 
 gradually becoming, owing to the absence of the re-
 
 206 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 I 
 
 straining influence of the white man, and the onslaught 
 of the black, as wild and fierce as the untamed bison- 
 herds of America. Their instinct teaches them to 
 select the most inaccessible fastnesses of the forest as 
 their favourite haunts. Caution and cunning develop 
 hand in hand with ferocity and fear. Their very ap- 
 pearance changes ; and the second or third descendant 
 of the well-bred, quiet, symmetrically-shaped favourite 
 of the milking yard is almost always a long-legged, 
 big-headed, coarse-horned runt. 
 
 These wild herds are justly considered as being a 
 constant source of nuisance in the proximity of a cattle- 
 run. Numbers of ill-shaped, badly-bred bulls wander 
 among the quiet cattle, and the presence of the wild 
 herd induces the desertion to the scrubs of many of its 
 members. The raids made by the owners of stations 
 on these outlaws depend very much as to the vigour 
 of their prosecution on the value of cattle at the time 
 being ; and when the market price of ordinary quiet 
 stock is low, the scrubbers have little or no value ; but 
 should a demand arise, every cattle-owner makes des- 
 perate exertions to capture them. These clean-skins, 
 as they are often called, to distinguish them from the 
 branded cattle, are supposed to belong to the cattle- 
 owner on whose run they emerge from their shelter; 
 but when a large scrub is situated in the centre of 
 several cattle - stations, they may be the property of
 
 OUT AFTER SCRUBBERS. 207 
 
 any one. In fact, it seems to be a recognised axiom 
 that "the smartest man gets the most." They are, 
 nevertheless, the frequent cause of many heart-burn- 
 ings and much jealousy. 
 
 Neighbours who have only sheep - stations, and 
 therefore can have no right or interest, make descents 
 on the scrub when out of beef; or perhaps, more try- 
 ing still, an unprincipled publican, wlio has only been 
 permitted by an act of courtesy on the squatters' part 
 to erect a so-called hotel on the run, takes advantage 
 of his being allowed to keep a few milkers, to claim 
 an interest in the unbranded ones. The result is 
 almost always the same. A few dashing, reckless, 
 unprincipled horsemen, lured by his strong waters, 
 collect about the house. Moonlight expeditions. are 
 organised ; a herd of cattle is formed ; and the almost 
 penniless publican eventually finds himself in a posi- 
 tion to lease land from the Crown and start as a 
 squatter himself. Many different modes of operations 
 are required in this kind of work, and much strategy 
 and fearless horsemanship in the execution of them. 
 This is occasioned by the nocturnal habits of the scrub 
 herds — as they almost invariably remain concealed in 
 their woody strongholds during the day, and only ven- 
 ture, into the open after sundown, making good their 
 retreat by earliest dawn. It is therefore a favourite 
 plan amongst the bold scrub-riders to take advantage
 
 208 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 of the bright moonlight nights, when, shrouded in the 
 misty light, and undistinguishable from the surround- 
 ing shadows, they burst on the unsuspecting mob ; 
 then urging their horses through the trees with utter 
 recklessness as to the safety of life or limb, they gallop 
 between their prey and the dark scrubs. The riders 
 understand their work ; each one carries out his part, 
 and, from long experience, knows exactly when to 
 shout or to keep still, when to drive the captives on or 
 to round them in a ring. They, on the other hand, 
 are taken by surprise ; they are frightened and con- 
 fused. The start caused by the sudden appearance of 
 the shadowy horsemen, the fear of man, the clattering 
 hoofs, and the suppressed shout, are all against them. 
 A few of the fiercest bulls break away, and are allowed 
 to go ; the rest rush forward through the gap purposely 
 left open for them, and are skilfully steered into a 
 herd of quiet cattle which has been stationed at a 
 convenient spot. Once among the couchers, as they 
 are called, it is comparatively easy to bring them 
 home. 
 
 Our hero, who was much fascinated with the 
 delights of a cattle-station life, willingly accepted his 
 friend's invitation to join him in the projected expe- 
 dition. It was still early when they returned home, 
 and the men were waiting. Mounting fresh horses 
 they start for the scrubs. The day was one of those
 
 THROUGH THE BUSH. 209 
 
 glorioas bright days of which nature is so lavish in 
 Australia. The skies were without a cloud, and the 
 air balmy and pleasant, notwithstanding the heat, 
 which had none of that tropical moistness so pro- 
 ductive of languor. What an exhilarating effect it 
 has on the spirits ! Even the horses feel it. They 
 know quite well that sharp work lies before them, and 
 they step forward to it with pleasure. 
 
 All hands are anxious to try their luck with the 
 clean - skins. " The Barham Downs people were out 
 for a whole month lately, and didn't get as many as 
 would pay for the rations used by the party. But 
 what can you expect from a kid-glove super that 
 isn't game to let his horse out at speed on the bush ? 
 We'll show them a dodge this time. It takes us 'to 
 wipe their eyes." 
 
 It is Fitzgerald's intention to intercept the wild 
 mob as they seek cover at earliest dawn. By doing 
 this he will have the whole day before him to take 
 them home ; besides which, the moon doesn't answer 
 yet for night work. The party, therefore, carry with 
 them a light blanket apiece, stow^ed away in the folds 
 of which is each man's supper and breakfast. Hobbles 
 and Jack Shays^ hang from the saddle-dees. The 
 bush is as full of life as ever. Hark to the ceaseless 
 
 ^ A tin quart-pot, used for boiling water for tea, and contrived so 
 as to hold witliin it a tin pint-pot. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 BUSH- LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 sin<][incf of the cicala ! It almost drowns one's voice. 
 How the grasshoppers rise and fly in front of our 
 horses ! Wallabies hop swiftly past. Mobs of kan- 
 garoos sit watching as the party pass, or bound away, 
 their long thick tails beating heavily on the ground, 
 and acting as a counterpoise to their bodies. Swarms 
 of bright noisy parrots of all sizes dart from one tall 
 tree to another, or play among the branches, sometimes 
 chasing one another, anon hanging head downwards 
 and holding on by one foot, or watching us with their 
 bright eyes, as with saucy mien they sit, their heads 
 on one side, discussing sweet morsels held up in pert 
 little claws. 
 
 We pass through timbered country this time — short, 
 sweetly-grassed iron-bark ridges ; then over some box- 
 tree flats, and again over more ridges. Here and there 
 red clay mounds, made by the white ant, alternating 
 with the little, conical, inverted, funnel-looking nests 
 of the soldier, meet the eye. Fitzgerald stops sudden- 
 ly, and points out two emus to John. They are stalk- 
 ing along very quietly, about one hundred and fifty 
 yards away. They resemble ostriches, but are not 
 so large, and the tail droops more. One of the black- 
 boys whistles in a peculiar way. The emus crane their 
 necks and listen. Their curiosity is excited. See, 
 they are approaching slowly ! They come within 
 about thirty yards, and John can distinguish every
 
 THROUGH THE BUSH. 211 
 
 point about them, from their black cast-iron-looking 
 legs, to the bare neck and small head, with its bright 
 eye and strong fiat beak. One has a white ring of 
 feathers around the throat. How they run ! Ah, they 
 have stopped again, and gaze once more ! Come along, 
 we have no time to wait. There they go, their feathers 
 rustling like dried grass. Yonder is a native dog. 
 What has he been up to, eh ? He sees us, and, 
 standing, looks for a moment. Hey, Ginger ! here, 
 boy ! That startles him. He takes to his heels, his 
 tail between his legs, looking quietly over his shoul- 
 der every minute. Let us ride up and see what he 
 was after. Here it is. Just like him. A dead calf 
 newly born. Its mother must have hidden it here 
 in the long grass. She has gone to slake her fever- 
 ish thirst at the nearest water, and the cowardly brute 
 has awaited her departure to tear the helpless little 
 innocent to pieces. Fitzgerald swears vengeance ; and 
 producing his little bottle of strychnine, he baits the 
 calf in various places. That will settle the murderer, 
 he says, with venomous satisfaction. A quarter of 
 a mile farther on we met the poor mother. She is 
 quite a young heifer. She is running back to the spot 
 where her little treasure lies, mooing tenderly as she 
 hastens along. Her drawn sides and bedraggled coat 
 betray her exhausted condition ; but she cannot spare 
 herself, she must hurry back. Poor thing ! her heart
 
 212 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 will be torn with grief when she discovers the fate of 
 her little pet. How faithfully she will watch over the 
 mangled remains for days — yes, even when they are 
 black with ants and flies, and offensive with corruption ! 
 
 Once more we get into plains and scrubs. A half- 
 grown kangaroo flies past, making for the scrubs with 
 incredible swiftness — and never had he more need. A 
 few feet above his head sails, with black outstretched 
 wings, with fierce relentless beak and talons, a large 
 eagle -hawk. His consort skims the ground in a 
 parallel line between him and the timbered coun- 
 try. Should their prey once reach cover, they will 
 lose their expected repast. It is now close at hand ; 
 the straining animal is almost at it ; but, alas ! it is 
 already too late. The swoop is made. The talons 
 sink deep in the lustrous eyes, the black pall- like 
 wings are flapping wildly about the gentle head, and 
 the strong remorseless beak sinks deep into the brain. 
 The hunt is over, and now comes the gorge — days of 
 inert repletion and listless torpor — and then another 
 glorious cruise in the bright blue sea of heaven over- 
 head. But Nemesis once more follows on the wake 
 of murder, and the little poison-bottle again prepares 
 a banquet of death for the destroyers. 
 
 The plain we are crossing is covered with old tracks. 
 When this old feed was young, it also was a favourite 
 feeding-ground of the scrub mobs. Look at the small
 
 THE SOLEMN SCRUB. 213 
 
 paths leading up to the scrub; they are still quite 
 distinct. Now we approach the scrub. It is nec- 
 essary for us to make our way through a belt of 
 about two miles in depth, so that we may take the 
 clean-skins in rear, without disturbing them, should 
 they be preparing to feed out on the plains. We 
 enter along one of the cattle-tracks, riding one after 
 another. It runs out in a short time, and under 
 Fitzgerald's guidance we make the best of our way. 
 How close the trees grow to one another ! It is quite 
 dark overhead. The soil is a decayed vegetable de- 
 posit. What an earthy smell ! Fallen trees stop the 
 way everywhere ; bushes and undergrowth mask the 
 view. How the vines twist round the trees, or hang 
 festooned from the branches ! Ferns, mosses, and 
 lichens, with fungi of all sorts, are to be met with 
 on the fallen logs and old stumps. Look at that 
 gigantic bottle-tree ! It is small below, then, widen- 
 ing gradually, it contracts at the top. It is some- 
 thing like a huge radish. The inside is soft pulp, 
 and when very young, can be eaten. Hark ! there 
 goes a " wonga - wonga," high up in the topmost 
 branches of that great cedar. How solemnly quiet 
 it is here ! It puts one in mind of a Scottish Sabbath. 
 Listen to the bell-bird ! Ping, ping, sounds through 
 the last hushed temple of nature. Now one hears 
 the pat - pat - pat of a wallaby. That is the coach-
 
 214 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 whip bird. There again. Whew - ew - ew - ew - whit. 
 How sharply the last note comes ! Look at this 
 immense mound ! It is a scrub-turkey's nest. Thirty 
 or forty lay their eggs in it. One could hardly ima- 
 gine they could gather such a huge pile of sticks and 
 earth and leaves. They bury their eggs, and heap 
 up the nest until the laying- time ceases. The moist 
 heap heats and incubates the eggs. The young tur- 
 keys spring out of the shell, covered with a thick 
 warm coat, and scratch their w^ay into daylight, 
 strong and able to provide food for themselves. 
 
 What numbers of cattle-tracks there are ? This 
 place must be swarming with cattle. Look, high 
 up in the branches of that tall tree is a native bear ! 
 It sits motionless. It has something the appearance 
 of a solemn old man. How funny his great ears 
 and Eoman nose look 1 He sits on the branch as 
 if it was a chair, holding with hand-like claws the 
 surrounding twigs. 
 
 At last they succeeded in making their way out, 
 and emerge on a little creek which runs close by 
 the edge of the scrub. Small plains intersected 
 by strips of scrub lie in front of them. Fitzgerald 
 determines to fix his camp here. They will be near 
 enough to hear the lowing of the cattle during the 
 night, and in a good position for intercepting them 
 at dawn.
 
 CAMPING OUT. 215 
 
 Asking John to accompany him, he starts to re- 
 connoitre. The others build a small fire inside the 
 scrub, and turn out their horses. The two scouts 
 ride cautiously along the edge of the scrub for about 
 a quarter of a mile, keeping well out of sight. A 
 large plain lies before their gaze, but as yet the sole 
 tenants are a few kangaroos. It has been lately 
 burnt, and the tender young grass growing on it 
 shines between them and the great red ball of fire, 
 sinking in the western horizon like a sea of emerald. 
 Down at the far end of the plain a few white and 
 dark spots appear on the edge of the scrub. They 
 were not there a minute ago. Keep your eye fixed 
 on them. Yes, they are cattle; they move, they 
 increase in numbers. It is a mob coming out of the 
 scrub. A bellow is now heard a couple of hundred 
 yards off. Hush ! keep still. A heifer makes her 
 appearance, looks around, and feeds slowly and quietly 
 out on to the open burnt feed. A few young cattle 
 follow. Now comes an old cow, with long, black, 
 many -ringed horns, and many a scar on her dingy 
 white skin. Close behind her issues an old bull. 
 He is an ancient warrior. Gracious ! what a hump 
 there is on the back of his neck ! He is of a dark 
 brindle and yellow colour, with a white face, and 
 curly hair on the broad truculent - looking forehead, 
 on each side of which depends a little loose snaily
 
 216 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 horn; large yellow circles surround the small savage 
 eyes. Now come a number together. There are some 
 branded ones. Several have Fitzgerald's brand FGD 
 on the near -side rump. They number in all about 
 fifty head. It is quite dark by this time, and the 
 two spies return to the camp, and turn their horses 
 out for the night. . ... 
 
 All are anxious to hear the result. • Every one 
 speaks in a whisper. Supper is partaken of almost 
 silently. The water the tea is made of tastes of the 
 smell of cattle. Put a sprig of sweet marjoram in the 
 boiling tea — it will improve the flavour. • The little 
 fire in the dense thickets, with the dark. forms gath- 
 ered round it, gives one the idea of a robbers' encamp- 
 ment. At last all hands turn in for. a few hours' 
 sleep. John closes his • eyes in vain. He is too 
 excited ; he cannot rest. How picturesque the vague 
 undefined forms look in the dim firelight, rolled up 
 in their red blankets ! ■ • 
 
 What a noise the opossums make chattering and 
 squalling up above ! Hark ! that was a child crying. 
 It startles him : he gets up. Sam is also awake, and, 
 lighting his pipe, sits crouching over the fire with the 
 blanket drawn round him. Again the wailing cry 
 of the child: " What on earth is that ? " asks John. 
 "Oh, one of them native bears," says the stockman, 
 carelessly. . . '
 
 CAMPING OUT. 217 
 
 Distant bellows come from the plain. In the im- 
 mediate neighbourhood of the camp the horses are 
 heard feeding as they jump along with difficulty in 
 their shortened hobbles. "Hadn't you better turn 
 in ? " suggests Sam. " We've good three hours yet 
 by the Southern Cross." John lies down close to the 
 fire, and. is lucky this time.^
 
 218 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A SPURT AT DAWN — A FAIR HAUL — CUTTING AND BRANDING. 
 
 Our hero slept sweetly, with his head on his saddle ; 
 so soundly, indeed, that when awakened he can hardly 
 believe he slept at all. It is still black night, but the 
 air is cold with the dews of morning, and every one is 
 up. A hurried breakfast is hastily eaten, blankets 
 are strapped in front of saddles, and the horses are 
 sought for and saddled in the dark. They shiver with 
 the cold. The morning star has been up some time. 
 The leaves are stirring with the morning breeze. 
 
 Now they mount and ride along the edge of the 
 scrub. Presently they come in view of the large 
 plain. It is nearly quite light now. The darkness of 
 night is fast hastening away, and the bright pale dawn 
 pursues it with incredible swiftness. The zodiacal 
 light is beginning to show. Far away at the lower 
 end of the plain a long string of cattle are disappear- 
 ing within the black line of scrub. Are we to be 
 unlucky after all ? No ! Hurrah ! A mob of about
 
 k SPUKT AT DAWN. 219 
 
 fifty or sixty head appear from behind a patch of 
 scrub in the middle of the plain and make their way 
 at a steady walk towards shelter. They are nearer 
 the long, dense, frowning scrub-line than we are by a 
 good deal. Now is the time. " Come along, boys ! " 
 shouts Fitzgerald, as he dashes along at his utmost 
 speed, followed closely by his men, Indian file. What 
 a glorious burst ! The cattle see us, and start at a 
 gallop for the nearest cover. It is an exciting race, 
 winding up with a dead-heat. Horses, men, and cattle 
 plunge into the dark thicket at the same moment, with 
 a noise of crashing branches and smashing saplings, 
 and are instantly lost to view. 
 
 John arrives at the scrub as soon as the rest. He is 
 determined to keep up with them. He will not* lose 
 sight of the cattle, even if he cannot do much towards 
 getting them. " Way, way ! " he shouts. His horse has 
 run him into a clump of lawyer-thorns, and he tears his 
 shirt and his hands and face in getting clear. Never 
 mind — push on. The cattle are smashing everything 
 before them in front, and he can hear the voices of his 
 friends shouting to them and each other. " Heavens I " 
 he nearly got dashed against that tree. " Confound it ! " 
 a vine has entangled itself round his neck, and he has 
 to draw his knife and cut it. Now he nearly tumbles 
 over a huge fallen log. " What an infernal place ! " 
 " Which way did they go ? " Pull up an instant and
 
 220 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 listen. "Not a sound. They must be ahead. " Get 
 along, horse." " Holy St Denis ! " he utters, as a long 
 dead sandal-wood stake, with a hard sharp point like 
 a bayonet, drives itself between his saddle -flap and 
 the panel, and, breaking short off, remains there. It 
 is a mercy that it did not enter his horse's chest. 
 " In the name of goodness, where have they got to ? " 
 " Which is the way out ? " Everywhere the scrub 
 looks the same — fallen timber and thick undergrowth, 
 and trees growing close together. The smell of cattle 
 is very strong, as is also the scent of the sweet mar- 
 joram, which, growing in vast abundance, has been 
 trodden on and bruised by the hoofs of the hurrying 
 crowd. Listen ! there is a whip away behind in the 
 opposite direction. " How did they get there ? " 
 Hurrying back, sometimes jogging, sometimes trotting 
 a few yards ■ — stopping here to tear himself through 
 the vines and thorns, lying flat on the saddle there 
 to pass under an overhanging bough — John succeeds 
 in getting on to a cattle-track, along which he travels 
 a little faster, till at length, to his great joy, he finds 
 himself clear of the scrub — scratched and torn, indeed, 
 but glad to come out with his eyesight intact. A 
 whip is heard faintly ahead, and spurring his horse, 
 he tears over the plain towards the sound. The plain 
 is full of deep melon-holes, and the ground is rotten 
 and undermined by rats. Should his horse put his
 
 A FAIR HAUL. 221 
 
 foot in the wrong place, it will be a case of smash ; 
 but he doesn't care, and at last pulls up beside his 
 companions. 
 
 They have succeeded in running out about forty 
 head. Fitzgerald and Tommy the white stockman 
 ride ahead, keeping back the furious crowd as much as 
 possible. A man rides on each wing, allowing plenty 
 of room, and another brings up the rear. It is in vain 
 to think of steadying them just yet. "Just keep them 
 together, and do not close on them." Now they are 
 well away from the scrub. "Eound them up if pos- 
 sible, and let them stand a few minutes to breathe." 
 They will not steady. Again they break and dash 
 off. " Keep them back in front." " Use your whips." 
 Gradually they drop into a steadier pace, ami at 
 last, with panting chests, lolling -out tongues, and 
 glaring eyes, are driven into a mob of quiet cattle, 
 which are found feeding handy. "Eing them up." 
 " Mix them well with the quiet ones, and let them 
 stand a little." 
 
 " How did you manage to get the cattle out of that 
 awful place ? " asks John of Fitzgerald, who happened 
 to be next him as they sit, forming a ring around the 
 captives. 
 
 " Oh, that was only a belt about half a mile thick," 
 replied the young man. " After getting through that 
 we came upon another plain. We headed them there,
 
 222 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 and driving them down it, we found an opening through 
 the scrub on to this side." 
 
 " How do you manage to gallop in that frightful 
 thicket of trees and logs ? " questioned West, with 
 wonder. "I was nearly dragged off a dozen times." 
 
 *' Practice," said the squatter, laughing. " I thought 
 you would find it a little stiff at first." 
 
 Now they move along once more. " Keep them well 
 in the quiet cattle," shouts Fitzgerald. " Round them 
 up every time they seek to break. They'll soon steady." 
 
 How delicious is the bright summer morning ! The 
 horses' feet are wet as they brush away the shining 
 diamond -like drops of dew in front of them. The 
 men light their pipes, and the little blue clouds of 
 smoke float daintily on the soft breath of the morn- 
 ing. What a fragrance the air is filled with ! Now 
 the watershed into the creek is crossed, and the party 
 halt at a camp, while Peter and John go up a neigh- 
 bouring gully to search for cows with calves to brand. 
 There, among the wattles, almost hidden from sight, 
 is a small mob. The sweet-scented yellow mimosa- 
 blossoms fall like rain as they push their way through 
 the grove, and drive the lazy quiet cattle down towards 
 the large mob. Many cows with unbranded calves are 
 drafted out on the various camps, and they approach 
 the yards with a considerable number. Near home 
 they pass a small mob of horses, amongst which Fitz-
 
 A FAIR HAUL. 223 
 
 gerald points out to John an exceedingly handsome 
 and well-bred-looking black colt, saying, rather drily — 
 
 "Your guardian's son, Mr Kalf Cosgrove, admired 
 him once very much." 
 
 The tone struck the young Englishman as meaning 
 more than the words conveyed, although he could not 
 have conceived that Ealf when a boy had made an un- 
 successful attempt to steal the animal. He remembered 
 that on several occasions Fitzgerald had evaded criticis- 
 ing Mr Cosgrove or his son, although he had inquired 
 after Euth in a kindly and even affectionate manner, 
 and John made up his mind to ask his friend's opinion 
 about them. However, the hurry and bustle of the 
 mustering caused him to forget his intention. After 
 a good deal of shouting, cracking of whips, and gal- 
 loping after odd breakaways, the cattle were yarded 
 amid clouds of dust, and all hands betook themselves 
 to supper and bed, it being imperatively necessary 
 that the next day's duties should commence by day- 
 break. A loud cooey awoke John from dreams of 
 chasing scrub cattle, and turning out hurriedly, he 
 found all hands down at the drafting yards. Black- 
 boys were cooeying to one another instructions as 
 to the carrying down of brands and ropes, and the 
 noise of the imprisoned herd was terrific. Following 
 the example of the rest, John entered the great re- 
 ceiving yard on foot, and assisted in driving the cattle
 
 224 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 into a lesser yard. This was not accomplished without 
 much shouting, and throwing of sticks. The cattle 
 breaking back in a body once or twice previously 
 to entering, rushed to the far end of the yard, raising 
 dense clouds of dust, through which occasionally could 
 be seen forests of horns, and hundreds of quickly mov- 
 ing feet, or the dim outline of a beast or two. Now 
 and then an infuriated animal would single out and 
 charge down on one of the men, amid a shower of 
 sticks and stones from his fellows — the assailed one 
 meantime making his escape in the best way possible. 
 To assist in this as well as for shade, trees had been 
 left in the centre of the enclosure. At last they draw 
 into the other yard. Once they start there is no 
 stopping them. What a crush ! Some of their ribs 
 must crack between the posts. " Stand near the gates 
 and keep them back if possible." "Fill up the yards 
 ahead." " Now put up the heavy rails, and shut all 
 the gates." 
 
 Each successive yard up to the pound is full of 
 cattle. Drafting now begins. Three or four are driven 
 into the pound. They are all cows whose calves are 
 to be branded. They are let out into another yard, 
 through one of the numerous gates in the little pound- 
 yard. This time, four animals take their place. Two 
 are unbranded calves, and are let out into the branding- 
 pen. Of the other two, one is of the same class as the
 
 CUTTING AND BRANDING. 225 
 
 first lot, and is allowed to join them, tlie fourth is a 
 full-grown scrubber. It is drafted into a different 
 yard, reserved for that description of animal. So the 
 work goes on. 
 
 The beasts passing through the pound are then 
 divided according to their various classes. Meantime 
 all hands are busy. Some are filling up out of one 
 yard into another, others keep the cattle from crush- 
 ing each other in corners. Fitzgerald stands in the 
 lane leading up to the pound, near the gate, with a 
 stout stick in his hands, and regulates admission 
 into it, shouting his orders to the men in charge of 
 the various other gates. His work is by no means 
 a sinecure. The cattle are rushing and crowding. 
 Many of them, more especially the scrubbers, are 
 maddened at being cooped up in the yard, and 
 charge at every one with the greatest ferocity. 
 Now he slams the gate in the faces of a squeezing 
 crowd, that would fill up the little yard entirely, 
 did they enter. A moment afterwards he opens it, 
 and dexterously admits a couple of the proper sort, 
 and shouts out their class, as, jumping on one side, 
 he eludes the desperate charge of an infuriated animal, 
 dealing it in the same moment a couple of rapid blows 
 with his stick. Now he opens the gate once more. 
 Every one is active, and every one is on the look-out. 
 It is surprising how coolly they work among the 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 furious animals. Every now and then, some one 
 makes a couple of strides to the top of the fence, 
 leaving a disappointed enemy below; and at last, 
 after two or three hours' hard work, the calves are 
 all drafted into a yard by themselves. The large 
 scrubbers occupy another. Fitzgerald intends keep- 
 ing them in one of the large paddocks on the run, 
 until he can sell them. Their calves will be put in 
 the weaning paddock along with the rest, and in 
 the course of time will forget all their wild habits. 
 An adjournment is now made for breakfast, after 
 which branding commences. The young stock were 
 in two yards adjoining one another, — that devoted to 
 branding purposes being considerably the smaller; 
 the other served to feed it with calves as required. 
 The branding -pen was half filled by a number of 
 rushing, squeezing, kicking, charging, calves of all 
 ages, from about fifteen months old downwards. The 
 larger unbranded cattle are kept in reserve to be 
 branded at more leisure. Fitzgerald and Sam jump 
 quietly into the yard. The former takes the noose 
 end of a long, thin, but exceedingly strong, green- 
 hide rope, and dexterously lassoes a yearling scrub 
 bull, who, from his colour and general appearance, 
 must be a son of the animal they saw coming out 
 of the scrub the other night. The rope after passing 
 through two or three pulleys is fastened round the
 
 CUTTING AND BRANDING. 227 
 
 barrel of a windlass outside. It tightens. The 
 Micky feels the strain, and gives a great leap. 
 
 " Take in the slack there," shouts Fitzgerald. INTow 
 comes the tug of war. Straining, roaring, jump- 
 ing, dashing violently against the rails, the yellow 
 brindled Micky is dragged up, in spite of a determined 
 resistance, to a corner -post of the yard. Meantime 
 Sam has caught the tail in one hand, and with the 
 other lassoes the creature's hind leg, passing the end 
 of the rope at the same moment outside, to a man 
 whose duty it is to hold it. "Pull up there," he 
 shouts. The fore leg is served in the same way. 
 The leg -ropes pass under the lowest rail, and are 
 held outside. The struggling, bellowing animal is 
 now sideways to the fence, its head held close to 
 the corner-post by the head-rope. Sam again seizes 
 the tail and gives a sudden jerk ; the leg-ropes take 
 the creature's legs from under it, and down it comes 
 on its side with a heavy flop. Eed-hot brands are 
 now brought from the fire, and in less time than it 
 takes to tell it, the whole affair has been begun and 
 concluded. Another is caught and hauled up at the 
 instant when, jumping up, the first victim rushes 
 with blind rage at his tormentors. The branding-pen 
 is getting particularly lively now. There are three 
 or four Mickies and wild heifers who are determined 
 to have their owner's heart's-blood. " Open the gate
 
 228 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 there," sliouts Fitzgerald. Sam cleverly avoids a 
 sudden charge, and obeying the command, allows 
 a singed and blood - streaming Micky, followed by 
 two or three other raging spirits, to dash past into 
 an adjoining yard, in the seclusion of which, they 
 may safely indulge in any amount of bellicose 
 demonstration. The smaller calves are scruffed,^ 
 and soon finished, and a fresh batch takes the 
 place of the first detachment. In this manner the 
 whole of the calves are soon got through. The 
 larger clean - skins pass through the same ordeal ; 
 but it is a work of more time, not unmixed with 
 serious risk. 
 
 All now bear about with them an indisputable 
 testimony of ownership. The cows belonging to the 
 quiet herd are turned free into the bush. Such as 
 have young calves are allowed to take them away 
 vi^ith them. Any calves over six months old, how- 
 ever, are kept back for weaning. This causes much 
 grief on both sides. The bereaved mothers hanging 
 about outside make day and night hideous with their 
 bellowing lamentations, answered every now and then 
 by a plaintive chorus from the yard. So passes the 
 day, and preparations are made for a fresh day's work 
 on the morrow. It is, however, necessary that John 
 should return to Cambaranga ; so bidding farewell to 
 
 1 Cauglit bv hand.
 
 BACK TO CAMBARANGA. 229 
 
 his kind entertainer, and after promising another 
 visit when possible, he started for home. 
 
 How much more self-confident he feels now than 
 when he first landed in Brisbane ! He cantered along 
 the road as if he had been accustomed to the surround- 
 ings of a bush-life all his days. Half-way to Carn- 
 baranga he met the " Bindarobina " stockman on his 
 road back, leading the yellow stallion. He was in 
 high spirits at having brought him so far. A pair 
 of draught-horse winkers kept the animal from ob- 
 serving what occurred around him, and had a consid- 
 erable effect in cowing his temper ; but notwithstand- 
 ing the unsightliness of the head-gear, his presence 
 was most stately. The simple surcingle and crupper 
 served to set off his finely -shaped proportions in a 
 manner far superior to what any more gorgeous trap- 
 pings could have done ; while the reins, though loosely 
 buckled, kept the noble neck with its waving mane in 
 a superb arch. 
 
 " Mind you don't loose the rein off him yet," said 
 John, warningly. 
 
 The man, satisfied of his ability to take him home in 
 safety, boastingly remarked that it would take a better 
 horse than " Yellowman" to get away from him. But 
 he hallooed before he was out of the wood ; for John 
 learnt, to his great vexation, some days afterwards, 
 that he had not proceeded more than a few miles
 
 230 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 further on his road, when, falling in with a mob of 
 bush-horses, the yellow steed SQt to work rearing and 
 pulling on the halter, and in spite of the efforts of 
 the man, who was dragged out of his saddle in the 
 struggle, he succeeded in getting free. All attempts 
 to recapture him proved unavailing. 
 
 It may be as well to mention here, that the animal 
 in question has been since then occasionally seen by 
 a stray shepherd or stockman, in some of the most 
 inaccessible parts of the wild broken country between 
 the Cambaranga and Bindarobina runs. The surcingle 
 and crupper remained buckled on his body long 
 enough to produce an abrasion of the skin, — their 
 places being now indicated by a growth of white hair, 
 producing a remarkable effect. He is invariably at- 
 tended by a harem of mares, as wild and untamable 
 as himself
 
 231 
 
 CHAPTER XVIl. 
 
 CAMBARANGA AGAIN — A WET ADVENTURE — A HOS- 
 PITABLE REFUGE. 
 
 On his return to Cambaranga, John found that Mr 
 M'Duff had come back from his northern tour, and 
 did not appear over-well pleased that he had taken a 
 holiday in his absence. M'Duff was one of those men 
 who think they never can get enough work out of 
 their subordinates. A hard worker himself, urged on 
 by the stimulus which the immediate prospect of mak- 
 ing money usually confers, he required that none of his 
 people should do less than himself. John was kept at 
 work from morning to night ; and very often midnight 
 saw him returning from business at one of the far out- 
 lying sheep-stations. For these exertions he received no 
 pecuniary return, it being the opinion of Mr M'Duff, as 
 well as of many other proprietors of "Dotheboys Halls " 
 in the colony, that the acquisition of a knowledge of 
 bush -life, or "colonial experience," as it is termed, 
 amply compensated for the arduous labours performed.
 
 232 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 On one occasion when he had spent the whole of 
 the morning and forenoon in the saddle, he was re- 
 quested by Mr M'Duff to count the sheep on a distant 
 station, and return that evening. A dull uninteresting 
 ride brings him to the sheep-station. It is just time 
 to count the flock : they are correct. The rainy season 
 has begun — and the sky is heavily overcast. It will 
 be a black, dark, and possibly very wet night. He 
 liates the idea of riding home, but he knows that 
 M'Duff makes a point of his returning in order to have 
 him at work early. 
 
 This is the black swamp, only seventeen miles dis- 
 tant from home. Still eight miles to go. It is spit- 
 ting rain as he canters along. It must now be sun- 
 down. It will be a frightfully dark night ; now it sets 
 in for heavy, settled rain. There will be no moon to 
 illuminate, however opaquely, the heavy, dense clouds. 
 It becomes quite dark. Still he jogs along, looking for 
 the welcome light, longing for the music of the dogs. 
 He feels his horse is crossing deep, sharp gullies, — 
 surely he cannot be on the road. Now he passes a 
 stream of water, and the animal's hoofs crunch the 
 stones and gravel. There is no stream to cross on the 
 road. He gets off" and alights in grass. He knows now 
 that his horse has left the track. He leads his horse, 
 feeling for the hard smooth road with his feet. Is this 
 it ? He takes out his match-box and strikes a light.
 
 A WET ADVENTURE. 233 
 
 The sudden glare in the dark causes his nag to throw 
 up his head with a jerk, and all the matches fly out on 
 the ground — not one left. His horse has travelled this 
 road hundreds of times — perhaps he was only taking 
 a short cut. He mounts again, loosens the reins, and 
 makes up his mind to trust entirely to the animal. 
 
 On they go slowly. The creature, finding the reins 
 loose, walks away readily, tearing up large mouthfuls 
 of grass. He must evidently have some place in view, 
 he goes so cheerily in one direction. Perhaps he 
 is making back to Cambaranga ! How cold it is ! 
 Where on earth can he be going to now? He is climb- 
 ing up steep ascents — so steep that John has to hold on 
 by the mane ; now he is descending a slippery, steep 
 bank, and he slides yards. The trees and bushes iiave 
 been very thick for some time past, and long wet 
 branches drag themselves across John's face and neck. 
 
 He is so wet by this time that he makes no effort 
 to keep himself dry. The ground is streaming with 
 water, and there is a continual sound of swush, swush, 
 in his ears. What a night ! Even the native dogs 
 and the curlews have shelter. What would his mother 
 think, were she alive, and did she know of his con- 
 dition ? He is crossing flat country now. The heavy 
 rains have saturated the poor soil, — it is quite rotten, 
 and the horse bogs deeply at every step. Oh, he is 
 down, and struggling violently ! John frees himself
 
 234 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 from the saddle. His feet sink in the soft mud up 
 to the ankle. He extricates the animal, and leads 
 him, bogging heavily, for some time. The mud 
 splashes over his back and head. The country seems 
 to be quite flat : occasionally the ground is hard, and 
 he rides a little ; then comes more bogging. He is 
 fairly worn out ; and on arriving at the next hard 
 patch he makes up his mind to camp, in spite of 
 the rain. Here is one. He gets off, and ties his 
 steed to a tree. He has no hobbles, but a stirrup- 
 leather answers as well. The ground is two inches 
 under water, but he is so knocked up he cares not. 
 He spreads the saddle-cloth and lies down, with his 
 saddle for a pillow. How his teeth chatter? All 
 around there is heard one continued croak, croak, 
 croak, from the throats of countless frogs. Fatigue 
 nevertheless compels sleep, and when he awakes it 
 is breaking day. Saddling up his shivering horse, he 
 prepares to start, not to Cambaranga now, which he 
 should have reached last night, but towards the over- 
 seer's station, whither Mr M'Duff had asked him to 
 follow him that morning. Which way shall he go ? 
 The country is a dead level; he cannot tell north 
 from south, east from west. The sky is one vast 
 leaden cloud. He recollects hearing of a vast box- 
 forest between the Betyammo run and this part of the 
 Cambaranga station.
 
 A WET ADVENTURE. 235 
 
 The horse he is riding was bred on it. Now it 
 dawns on him why the brute left the road : he wanted 
 to make back to his own old beat. What course shall 
 he steer ? He endeavours to follow back his tracks of 
 last night, but the water is so deep in places as to 
 prevent his seeing them. He keeps on in the direction 
 he started in, and gets along at a pretty fair pace, con- 
 sidering the soft ground. In about two hours he falls 
 in with fresh tracks. He is relieved. Some one 
 passed this way not long ago. The tracks of the 
 bogging horse, though filled with muddy water, are 
 distinct enough. On he goes with spirits quite re- 
 freshed. Holloa ! there are tracks of two horses 
 now, both about the same age. He passes a bent 
 tree and thinks he has seen it before. Now he comes 
 to a fallen log which he remembers. Heavens ! he 
 is following his own tracks in a circle. He begins to 
 get frightened : he has heard of men perishing in the 
 box-forest before. He carefully selects a tree ahead 
 of him and makes for it, noting the place he started 
 from. On arriving at the tree he selects another in 
 front, keeping the last tree in a line with the first, and 
 by repeating the plan he succeeds in travelling pretty 
 straight. He has at least the satisfaction of know- 
 ing that he will get out of the forest eventually. The 
 sun glimmers faintly, a pale round spot in the clouds. 
 It is pretty high ; it must already be the afternoon.
 
 236 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 " Chop, chop, chop, chop," in the distance, faintly. 
 John pulls up and listens eagerly, but there is no 
 sound. He must have been mistaken. There again ! 
 He stops immediately, and pricks up his ears. Yes, 
 he hears it distinctly. Blacks. Now he will find out 
 where he is. Guided by the sound, he rides up and 
 discovers a black fellow of the Cambaranga tribe, who 
 rejoices in the, at present, very appropriate name of 
 " Stick-in-the-mud." 
 
 " Gooray, Ginty, Ginty. Which way you have come 
 up, Missa Wess ? '' 
 
 *' Me loose em road," returned the latter. 
 
 " Tut, tut, tut," responded the black, with a piteous 
 look, shaking his head. 
 
 " Cambaranga close up ? " inquires West. 
 
 " Bail good way." 
 
 The same answer is returned as to the distance 
 from the overseer's place. Betyammo is described as 
 " little bit, good way," and Stick-in-the-mud promises 
 to show him on to a track leading there. John, who 
 is faint with hunger, asks his sable friend to procure 
 him some native honey, of which the bush is full. 
 
 " Too much big fellow water, bail ply (fly) come up 
 bail pind (find) him," answers the aboriginal, adding, 
 however, the question, " You patter (eat) potchum ? " 
 
 "Yohi" (yes), said John, rather doubtfully, for he is 
 not sure how his stomach will agree with the strange 
 meat.
 
 A WET ADVENTURE. 237 
 
 " All rigli ; me look out." He now went from tree 
 to tree examining carefully the bark, and at last, after 
 inspecting a large gum-tree he remarks, curtly, " Pot- 
 chum sit down." This he seemed to detect by the 
 fact that there were fresher scratches on its trunk, of 
 the kind made by the animals when ascending than de- 
 scending. The tree was a very large one. Its bark was 
 smooth like glass. Cutting a notch in the bark, and 
 embracing as much of the huge trunk as possible with 
 his arms, the black fellow mounted the height of the 
 step, then standing with his toe in the notch, with his 
 tomahawk he proceeded to cut another, about the 
 height of his waist, which he also ascended, keeping 
 his body flat to the tree. Step by step he gradually 
 rose, looking like a fly walking up a window-^ane, 
 until he reached the first fork, nearly forty feet above 
 the ground. A sudden twist enabled him to surmount 
 this difficulty, after which he walked among the 
 branches with the activity of a monkey. Selecting one 
 with a hole in it, he dropped two or three small stones 
 which he had carried up with him down the hollow, 
 listening intently as they rumbled down the pipe. 
 They all stopped at a particular place. Descending 
 to the spot, Stick-in-the-mud cut into the hollow, and 
 inserting his hand, drew forth a large opossum, its eyes 
 blinking in the daylight. 
 
 A few knocks against the tree deprived it of life, 
 and throwing it down, its captor descended, grinning
 
 238 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 from ear to ear his appreciation of the white fellow's 
 compliments as to his dexterity. Blacks never move 
 without a fire-stick ; and soon the opossum, divested 
 of its fur, was roasting on a fire, emitting a most 
 inviting odour under the circumstances. It makes 
 Stick-in-the-mud, who has only lately despatched an 
 immense meal, hungry again ; and John has some 
 difficulty in persuading him not to seize the half- 
 roasted creature and bite out a piece. 
 
 The black fellow looks astonished ; the prohibition 
 is quite against the customs of his race ; however, he 
 gives in, contenting himself by throwing the entrails 
 on the fire for a moment, and soon, to his guest's hor- 
 ror, he commenced despatching yards of the scarcely- 
 warmed intestines, at the conclusion of which opera- 
 tion his face presented a sickening spectacle. 
 
 Were it not that he is almost fainting with hunger, 
 the Englishman could not touch the black rat-looking 
 animal, roasted in its skin, its' tail curled round and 
 round, and its paws drawn up by the heat. 
 
 Stick-in-the-mud fancies the delay is caused by 
 ignorance as to the proper method of carving, and once 
 more stretches forth his wet and highly odoriferous 
 fingers towards the ''plat." Shuddering, John snatches 
 it away, and dividing it, presents him with half. On 
 tasting his own he finds it by no means to be despised, 
 and even longs for a little more.
 
 EATING OPOSSUM. 239 
 
 Stick-in-tlie-inud watches him. With the acuteness 
 of his people he had noticed the fastidiousness which 
 characterised the first few moiithfuls, and he roared 
 with laughter as he saw it disappearing. " Cawbawn 
 potchum boodgeree, bail gammon. Black fellow, caw- 
 bawn patter, my word." ^ 
 
 They now started for Betyammo. With wonderful 
 instinct the black fellow found his unerring way 
 through the bush. The country was still the same 
 flat forest. No water -course intersected it which 
 could act as a guide ; no mountain rose for a land- 
 mark. Mile after mile the same interminable box- 
 forest was traversed. Overhead the clouds hung 
 blackly, but with unhesitating confidence the child 
 of the woods walked ahead in the direction which he 
 felt within him to be the right one. Now and then 
 he stopped to ascertain whether or not a bandicoot 
 was in its nest ; and once in passing he gave two or 
 three cuts with his tomahawk to a tree, out of which he 
 dragged an immense maggot, which he swallowed with 
 great relish, after politely offering it to John, and laugh- 
 ing heartily at his face of disgust. Now they fall in 
 with a small track, and Stick-in-the-mud halts, saying — 
 
 " This one wheelbarrow yan long o' Beetyammo ^ 
 
 ^Literally: '"Possum very good, no gammon. Black fellow 
 plenty eat, my word." 
 
 2 Tills road goes to Betyammo.
 
 240 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 intimatiim at tlie same time that he himself is a 
 " postman black fellow," travelling on a special mis- 
 sion from one tribe to another, and that his business 
 will not permit him to go any further. Our friend 
 rewarded his guide by giving him a handkerchief 
 which he wore round his neck, and promised a liberal 
 supply of tobacco on his coming to Cambaranga ; and 
 setting spurs to his horse, pushed along smartly, strik- 
 ing at last the main road near Betyammo. 
 
 Here he overtook Mr Gray, who was returning from 
 a visit to a sheep-station. 
 
 Guessing the young fellow's plight, the kind-hearted 
 old gentleman hurried him home, made him drink a 
 couple of glasses of hot grog, and brought him in 
 dry clothes. John West had grown very much since 
 leaving home. He was now nearly six feet high, 
 and a strong, active, muscular fellow. Mr Gray, on 
 the contrary, was short and very stout ; and his guest 
 could not help laughing as he surveyed himself in his 
 host's short inexpressibles, the legs of which failed to 
 cover his ankles, and were a world too wide around 
 the waist. A coat to match completed his equip- 
 ment; and he joined the ladies, who welcomed him 
 with much pleasure, wicked Bessie slily compliment- 
 ing him on his appearance. 
 
 Once more the rain deluges the country, and John 
 congratulates himself upon having met Stick-in-the-
 
 A HOSPITABLE REFUGE. 241 
 
 mud. As the party are about sitting down to dinner, 
 horses are heard trotting up, and soon a drenched in- 
 dividual, enveloped in a huge oilskin poncho, is stand- 
 ing at the door, shaking hands with Mr Gray. It is 
 our friend Stone. His horses are turned out, his swags 
 brought inside, and in a short time the good-looking, 
 honest, careless fellow joins the party. He is an old 
 acquaintance. He has just come up from Sydney, 
 and he has news for every one. 
 
 He describes the cattle at the great Agricultural 
 Show to Mr Gray, and relates with much enthusiasm 
 how the black and yellow colours of " Old Tait " were 
 once more borne to victory by the little Barb ; and, 
 for the ladies' benefit, he gives an account of a ball 'at 
 Government House, and other gay festivities in which 
 he took part. 
 
 He describes the appearance and breeding of the 
 latest imported horses and cattle, and the shape of 
 the greatest novelties in fashionable dress. In fact, 
 he is a fund of information and amusement. He is 
 acquainted with the probable price of store wethers 
 in Victoria this coming season ; and the gossip of 
 Sydney and Brisbane is at his finger-ends. Moreover, 
 he interests Mr Gray very much by giving him some 
 information about new country. When in Sydney 
 he met some fellows who had been out exploring 
 lately, and they gave him an account of lands away 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 to the northward which must ultimately be of great 
 value; and he himself has an idea of joining a party 
 which is about to be formed in order to examine and 
 secure some of them. 
 
 And in the room at night, which they shared between 
 them, he told John of a small windfall which came to 
 him lately in the shape of a few hundred pounds. 
 
 "I'm going to turn over a new leaf," he remarked. 
 " I'll go out with this expedition, take up some country, 
 and either sell it and go out again, or try and get some 
 one to join me in stocking it. I wish you would come 
 too, West," he continued. " You have got some cash. 
 You can easily double it this way, without loss ; and 
 you will pick up colonial experience in shifting for 
 yourself far sooner than in working for others." 
 
 " I wish I could," said John ; " but my money is in 
 my guardian's hands, and I have no command of it." 
 
 " That's a pity," returned Stone. " Well, it can't be 
 helped ; but just let me give you a bit of advice. Get 
 hold of your money as soon as you can yourself, and 
 stick to it. Eemember it is very hard for a gentleman 
 to get along in the bush without capital. As for the 
 labourer, he is a thousand times better off. He lands 
 here, and he is sure of better wages than he could 
 expect at home. His food is found. His expenses 
 are reduced to a minimum. Every step he makes is 
 one in advance. There are openings here for him
 
 A HOSPITABLE EEFUGE. 243 
 
 wliicli do not exist at home. In a couple of years 
 he buys a horse-team ; next year he has two. A small 
 farm or a public-house follows as a natural consequence, 
 and he is almost immediately a moneyed man, provided 
 he does not drink, which is the rock he splits on too 
 often. I consider that when an intelligent, sober, and 
 hard-working young man lands in this colony, it is as 
 if he had a legacy of £500 put into his pocket at home ; 
 but the gentleman's son, without capital and without 
 a profession, is in a far different position. He works 
 often for less wages, in a highly responsible position, 
 slaving hard to amass sufficient to make a start. He 
 is in charge of valuable herds, and a vast property. He 
 cannot begin in a petty way. His mind revolts from 
 making a commencement as a carrier, or a travelling 
 hawker, or a publican, and associating with the people 
 that kind of work would cause him to live amongst. 
 Should he commence business as a storekeeper even, 
 he is dependent upon favour for custom ; he must 
 conciliate the lowest classes often, and always on a 
 digging township. The masses cannot bear to find 
 any man with more refined thoughts or manners than 
 themselves. They will not tolerate independence. It 
 is not enough to give value for money. To succeed, 
 he must slap ' Jack ' on the back, and be poked in the 
 ribs in return. He must drink a nobbier with ' Tom,' 
 and be ready to 'shout' for all hands at least once
 
 244 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 a-day. Nor must he be annoyed if he finds ' Bill ' 
 lying on his bed, with his dirty boots, scrutinising 
 his most cherished photographs, and commenting on 
 them in his delightfully brusque, frank style. It is 
 not," continued Stone, "that a man wants to keep 
 himself aloof from a snobbish feeling of superiority, 
 — no sensible fellow would ; but at the same time, one 
 likes to be independent, and live among one's equals 
 if possible. That is the reason why you find so many 
 fellows go away down to town and spend their money. 
 It seems so utterly hopeless, that what they can man- 
 age to save out of their small screws will ever grow 
 into a sum large enough for them to make a beginning 
 with, in the way they have been used to, that the 
 natural desire for a visit to town after the seclusion 
 of the bush, with its constant hardships, merely 
 affords them an opportunity of spending what they 
 have earned. They know few towns-people. They have 
 no pleasant houses to visit at. They take up their 
 quarters at a hotel frequented by squatters — men in 
 whose society they have lived in the bush, and whose 
 habits and ways are like their own, but whose purses 
 are longer. They go from one place of amusement to 
 another, longing for the rest of a pleasant home, sigh- 
 ing for the society of well-bred women in vain. Their 
 own homes are like mine, in most cases, away across 
 the water in Old England, and so they get into a
 
 A HOSPITABLE KEFUGE. 245 
 
 fasliion of spending their money and their holidays 
 in this manner as a matter of course. There are, 
 however, many who like nothing better; and some 
 young Australians, with happy homes to go to, choose 
 rather to spend their time in a rowdy, fast way, than 
 among their own circle, but three-parts of the bush- 
 fellows would be glad of the chance they throw away. 
 It is jolly enough while one is young, but it can't last 
 for ever, you know. West; so when I dropped into 
 this little thing I put the drag on, rolled up my valise, 
 and took my passage for Brisbane. I was sorry to 
 leave, too. A number of northern men were in Syd- 
 ney at the time, and came to see me and two or three 
 others, who were cleaned out, off. As we steamed 
 away from the quay, by Jove ! I envied them all 
 standing in a body there, shouting and chaffing re- 
 marks about ' Old Queensland,' and sending messages 
 to chums up in the bush ; and when I thought how 
 they would return to a good dinner at ' The Eoyal,' or 
 ' Petty 's,' or ' The Metropolitan,' and then stroll on to 
 the theatre, and so on, while I had to cut away back 
 to hard work, I almost felt inclined to stay ; and in- 
 deed, an hour afterwards, as we passed through the 
 Heads, and the old Clarence snorted away northwards 
 through the dirty black night, and over a chopping 
 cross-sea, if I could have returned I believe I would. 
 I don't think," said Stone, ruefully, " anything can be
 
 246 BUSH-LIFE m QUEENSLAND. 
 
 worse than coming out of Sydney Heads on a squally, 
 dismal evening, a little upset after a spell in town. 
 That feeling, however, soon goes off ; and as Fortune 
 seems inclined to do the right thing this time. 111 
 give her every opportunity before she has time to 
 change her fickle mind." 
 
 So saying, he turned over, and was asleep almost 
 immediately, leaving John to ruminate on what he 
 had said with regard to his money, about which he 
 somehow could not help feeling uncomfortable.
 
 247 
 
 CHAPTEE XVm. 
 
 THE LAMBING — SWINDLING A NEW CHUM. 
 
 Next morning John returned to Cambaranga, leaving 
 Stone, wlio had accepted Mr Gray's invitation to pass 
 some days there, to spell his horses. In a fortnight's 
 time, however, he passed on his road north, accom- 
 panied by a Betyammo blackboy, driving a number of 
 Betyammo horses. 
 
 During the night he spent at Cambaranga he ac- 
 quainted John with the fact that he had, since last 
 seeing him, entered into a partnership with Mr Gray, 
 who had agreed to stock any good country which he 
 might eventually secure, and meanwhile share his ex- 
 penses, and the profits on all country he might take 
 up and sell. 
 
 It must not be thought that during this time John 
 West had forgotten Euth, his guardian's step-daughter, 
 or his affection for her. He had not long been at Cam- 
 baranga when he sought out her mother's grave, and 
 found it a mere mound of earth — forgotten, uncared
 
 248 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 for. The cows browsed over it, and the rats burrowed 
 into the soft soil. ISTo stone or cross marked the spot 
 where that gentle heart slept peacefully, but a great 
 currajong waved its beautiful leaves lovingly as a 
 shelter from the fierce noonday sun and the chill 
 night dews, its perennial greenness emblematically 
 showinsf forth the eternal life into which the soul of 
 the sleeper had entered. 
 
 He asked permission of Mr M'Duff to enclose it and 
 put it in order, and received from him a rather coarse 
 repl}', that he might, if he chose, make a stock-yard 
 round it. His finances were by no means in a flourish- 
 ing condition, but he gladly expended the greater por- 
 tion of them in causing a neat fence to be erected 
 around this spot, so dear to the little friendless heart. 
 
 One of the men, a mason by trade, had managed 
 to cut a neat headstone from a flat block of sandstone 
 found in the creek, and John very often made a pil- 
 grimage to the place, which recalled the one love- 
 romance of his life. 
 
 It surprised him a good deal that, although he had 
 written two or three letters to Kuth, she had never 
 taken any notice of them, and he puzzled his brains 
 often to find out the reason. He had always taken a 
 brotherly care of her, and he knew she liked him. 
 What could be the cause ? Mr Cosgrove wrote once 
 or twice, but his letters were harsh and cold — mere
 
 THE LAMBING. 249 
 
 exhortations to work. And of work he had enough. 
 Sometimes John had to cro out and assist in cutting 
 down trees, and making bough-yards ; at others, his 
 assistance was needed in sinking post-holes and put- 
 ting up fences ; or he had to drive bullocks and bring 
 in firewood. 
 
 It was perhaps fortunate for John that he learnt 
 these rough experiences while still young ; and in a 
 great measure they kept him from dwelling on his 
 lonely lot. His happiest moments at this time were 
 those passed in slumber, when his mind reviewed the 
 most cherished recollections of his more youthful days, 
 and revealed to him again the loved features of his 
 sainted mother, his grave father, and Kuth, with her 
 wavy brown curls, and sweet sad face. 
 
 At last lambing-time came round, and he received 
 instructions from Mr M'Duff to join a party of three 
 men who were being sent out to take charge of one 
 of the flocks. Their destination was a distant creek. 
 The spot selected for a lambing -ground is always 
 chosen with the object of having plenty of green feed 
 for the ewes, so as to produce abundance of milk ; 
 but even to John's inexperienced eye this one did not 
 at all look promising. Part of the grass had never 
 been burnt, and the remainder had been set on fire 
 so recently, that it looked like a mere black waste. 
 Surely a better place could have been found than this.
 
 250 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 If rain fell immediately, the grass would spring ; and 
 altliougli at this time of the year the cold would keep 
 it back considerably, still one might manage to get 
 along ; but there was no prospect of a change from the 
 bright, cold, sunny weather. A black look-out, indeed, 
 for a good lambing. 
 
 If the men grumbled at the wretched pasture, they 
 broke into open mutiny when they saw the condition 
 of the flock they had to attend to, and the want of 
 comforts for themselves and necessary articles for their 
 work. The hurdles which are required to make folds 
 for holding sheep, and small pens to imprison such 
 refractory ewes as will not own and " mother " their 
 young, were few in number and of bad quality. The 
 bark gunyah the men lived in was made of poor and 
 rotten bark ; and as for the ewes, they were enough in 
 themselves to insure the failure of a lambing, even on 
 plentiful feed. 
 
 "Toothless, ragged, old grannies," muttered the 
 hurdle-man.^ 
 
 It is customary to divide a reward of sixpence per 
 head for all lambs reared over 80 per cent of the total 
 number of ewes sent to the lambing, among the men 
 whose exertions have contributed to the result. This 
 sum is in addition to their wages. Besides this, at a 
 
 1 The man who has charge of the young lambs for the first three 
 days after they are dropped.
 
 THE LAMBING. 251 
 
 lambing where the sheep are fat and the grass abun- 
 dant, very little trouble is required to make things go 
 smoothly ; whereas a bad lambing makes every one 
 w^orking at it discontented, listless, and dissatisfied 
 with himself, his mates, the sheep, the grass, and 
 above all, the boss or super, whose the responsibility 
 or loss is. 
 
 It certainly did not look like M'DufF's good manage- 
 ment sending this large flock (over 1500) to such a 
 wretched spot. John had often heard him speak of 
 the necessity of parting with old sheep. What could 
 he mean by sending them here ? A younger flock 
 could stand it better. He was aware that good grass 
 was scarce just then, but it surely was more necessary 
 for these poor creatures to have something to lanlb on 
 than stronger ones. The overseer who attended to the 
 wants of the men seemed glad to get away from the 
 desolate spot as soon as he could, and M'Duff never 
 came near it. There was clearly no hope of a percent- 
 age, or even of a tolerable lambing, and the men, dis- 
 heartened and disgusted, took no interest in their work. 
 
 Day by day matters grew worse. Lambs were 
 dropped in numbers ; but so old, and weak, and 
 hungry were the mothers, that they rather ran seeking 
 food for themselves than " took " to their helpless ofl*- 
 spring. Piles of lambs lay around the hurdle-yards 
 each morning dead — with their eyes picked out, often
 
 252 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 long before death, by the cruel crows, of which, and 
 carrion-hawks, hundreds could be seen sitting on the 
 neighbouring trees. All day long numbers of mother- 
 less, deserted, helpless creatures, with tucked-up bodies 
 and humped backs, baa'ed with faint weak voices their 
 desire for a little food. Dead sheep lay everywhere. 
 Not one ewe in a score cared for and nursed its lamb. 
 Those were lucky who recovered the prostration of 
 lambing. They had no love for their young, and no 
 milk to give them if they had. Still lambs kept 
 increasing by hundreds. The men did not know what 
 to do with them. It was a mercy to kill them. There 
 were lambs everywhere, and almost all without 
 mothers. Lambs in the yard — lambs down at the 
 water-holes — in the bush — in the hut, — everywhere. 
 
 It distressed John to see such a loss of property, 
 apart from the misery of the poor, weak, starved mites, 
 that cried their little throats so dry, and their mouths 
 so sore, as to be unable to swallow the nourishment 
 which he sometimes procured for them from ewes 
 who had a little milk. 
 
 It was impossible to do anything for the whole 
 body, yet he could not sit with his hands folded ; and 
 many were the different plans which, under the guid- 
 ance of the experienced old shepherd, he adopted. He 
 made little pens of hurdles, into which any ewe that 
 showed signs of having milk, and that would not
 
 THE LAMBING. 253 
 
 fondle her lamb, was put with it — both being marked 
 with raddle in a similar way, in order that they might 
 be detected easily in the crowd, when allowed to feed, 
 and imprisoned again — until at length the mother got, 
 by very force of habit, to love her young. Others, 
 whose lambs had died, were penned up and respect- 
 ively accommodated with a motherless one, on whose 
 back was fastened the skin of its foster-mother's de- 
 ceased little one. In many cases this met with suc- 
 cess. Numerous plans were tried, some mothers being 
 coaxed, others cajoled, and others intimidated. Some 
 were kept on purpose to feed the poor little hungry 
 orphans, who had been deserted by their own parents 
 after suckling them for a few days, and who tried their 
 puny utmost to prolong existence. 
 
 It was throughout a most painful business. Often 
 during the night John would be awakened by a thin 
 treble baa from some little lost waif, which had fallen 
 asleep during the day, and which, unsought for by its 
 mother, had lain in the bush, unnoticed, by itself. 
 This appeal he never could withstand; and, seeking 
 the homeless solitary one, he would endeavour to 
 assuage its young grief by giving it a drink from one 
 of his penned-up milkers. 
 
 At length it was over, and the last ewe had lambed. 
 All the mobs of different aged lambs which had been 
 hitherto kept apart were boxed up together, the sheep
 
 254 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 were made over to their shepherd, and the men rolled 
 up their swags, and tramped into the head-station to 
 get paid. 
 
 The latter part of the lambing had not been so try- 
 ing as the first half. Eain had fallen, and grass was 
 comparatively plentiful; but the poor condition and 
 age of the mothers had operated fatally against its 
 success. There were about a hundred lambs saved, 
 but over six hundred of the mothers had left their 
 bones to bleach on the fatal spot. It was indeed a 
 bad business, and John was thankful it was over ; but 
 he did not care to face the old superintendent with the 
 fatal tally of survivors. 
 
 On describing what had occurred, however, Mr 
 M'Duff did not seem to take it very much to heart, 
 merely remarking that John was exceedingly unlucky 
 with his first lambing. 
 
 Eather surprised to find his boss in such a gentle 
 mood, the latter added a remark, to the effect that had 
 the sheep been on better pasture the result would have 
 been more favourable. 
 
 " It is not likely," returned his superior, " that joui 
 sheep are to have the pick of the lambing -places. 
 They are hard enough to find of any sort this year." 
 
 **My sheep!" ejaculated the young man, wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Yes, of course, your sheep. You were looking
 
 SWINDLING A NEW CHUM. 255 
 
 after your own ewes lambing, and you are fortunate 
 in being allowed to keep them on the station at a time 
 when we require all the grass there is for ourselves/' 
 
 "How did they become mine?" inquired the sur- 
 prised new chum, bewildered about his new property. 
 
 " Become yours ! Well, I — I — I " stammered 
 
 M'Duff, who, notwithstanding his greed and selfish- 
 ness, had the grace to feel ashamed of the cheat which, 
 under the direction of his unscrupulous senior, he had 
 unhesitatingly played on the trusting lad. " The fact 
 is, your guardian invested your money in them nearly 
 a year ago, just after last shearing. I've got the re- 
 ceipt somewhere ; I'll find it and give it you." 
 
 "You do not mean to say that Mr Cosgrove has 
 sold me that flock of ewes which are dying so^fast, 
 and paid himself with my money ? " 
 
 " That is the flock he chose for you, and he cannot 
 help the seasons. He received you on his station; 
 invested your money for you. You have been taught 
 colonial experience " (John laughed bitterly) ; " and 
 you have had the use of the run for your sheep." 
 
 John had not sufficient knowledge of business to 
 understand the nature of the transaction thoroughly, 
 but he knew enough to feel alarmed. 
 
 " Will you show me the account against me in the 
 station books ? " he said, desperately, as if doubting 
 the evidence of his ears.
 
 256 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 He had worked so faithfully — his whole soul had 
 been in doing his duty — that he could not believe so 
 true an adherent and so enthusiastic a servant could 
 have been treated so treacherously. 
 
 They proceeded to the little office, and John read 
 against his name, in M'Duff"s scrawling characters, a 
 blotted, jumbled -up statement, which gave him to 
 understand that almost immediately after last shear- 
 ing this flock had become his. The original number 
 (1700) was charged to him at the unusually high figure 
 of 15s. per head. Two hundred had died during the 
 cold, wet season. 
 
 John knew too well the enormous number of deaths 
 during lambing, and he found himself now with 900 
 old ewes and a few lambs, at the mercy of his untrust- 
 worthy so-called guardian, or his managing partner, 
 for grass to feed them with. Another glance at the 
 books showed him that, after payment of passage- 
 money, shepherds' and lambers' w^ages, there stood but 
 a slender balance in his favour. 
 
 He said nothing : his soul was too sorely hurt to say 
 much. Truly he had fallen among thieves ; and those 
 who ought to have protected him had made prey of 
 him. Yerily M'Duff had known how to get rid of his 
 old ewes with a vengeance. 
 
 Mechanically rolling up his receipt for " money re- 
 ceived from Mr John West, price of 1700 ewes, aged,"
 
 SWINDLING A NEW CHUM. 257 
 
 he left the office, his breast swelling, more with grief 
 at the base duplicity of the transaction than for the 
 loss of his small fortune, which, as the money never 
 had been in his possession, did not come home so 
 acutely to him as it might have done. That he, who 
 had worked so honestly, whose thoughts and energies 
 day and night were how he might best please the man 
 under whose roof Euth lived, should have been made 
 the victim of so vile a swindle, so cowardly a deception ! 
 Now he understood Stone's hints about getting his 
 money into his own hands. Now he knew the mean- 
 ing of the sneers which were coupled with the names of 
 many squatters as the proprietors of "Dotheboys Halls." 
 At last he believed the stories of Australian wool 
 
 • 
 
 princes, living in England, graciously undertaking the 
 charge of young men of capital who desired learning 
 the art of making a fortune by sheep-farming, in order 
 to be able to charge them an exorbitant premium for 
 the pleasure of acting as a grocer's apprentice in their 
 stores, combined with that of a butcher's boy at their 
 slaughtering-yards, and finally winding up by selling 
 them their surplus stock at prices above just rates. 
 He had heard that the pin-money of some ladies travel- 
 ling in Europe with their spouses, the lords of cattle 
 on a thousand hills and of flocks innumerable, was 
 derived from this source. 
 
 As he lay awake all night on his hard bunk, he 
 VOL. I. K
 
 258 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 passed throiigli a " colonial experience " wliicli opened 
 his eyes wider to the ways of the world than they had 
 ever been before. He had cherished the hope of ren- 
 dering himself so useful to his employers as to make 
 it worth their while to retain him in their service, 
 under a salary which, saved with care for years, might, 
 joined to his own little inheritance, make him an inde- 
 pendent man, — and now that dream was over. The 
 next feelincj was one of bitter answer and hatred to all 
 concerned. He recollected his dislike to Mr Cosgrove, 
 on first seeing him. He remembered the continual 
 drudgery of his life under M'Duff. How differently 
 he had been treated by kind old Mr Gray and his 
 friend Fitzgerald ! He would not stay another hour 
 under the roof of the men he hated. He felt inclined 
 to throttle the first of them who came in his way. 
 And he consigned to the depths of eternal punish- 
 ment Cosgrove, and M'Duff, and the hopeful Ealf, and 
 
 Eu No, not Euth, — he could not include her. 
 
 His fierce emotion softened as he thought of her : she 
 was virtually alone like himself ; she had none of the 
 cheat's blood in her veins : and then his father's imasje 
 rose up before him ; and the thought of how he had 
 striven to secure the boy's future welfare, and that he 
 should have died, trusting to the assurances of a wolf 
 in sheep's clothing, nearly choked him. A fierce 
 burst of tears relieved his pent heart ; and he calmed
 
 SWINDLING A NEW CHUM. 259 
 
 down, wondering at the violent sobs which shook his 
 frame and the bed he rested on. 
 
 He was resolved now — that very morning, as soon 
 as light should come — he would go over and ask 
 Fitzgerald's advice; but whether he advised it or not, 
 he would stay no longer on the Cambaranga run. 
 Sooner would he travel his sheep from one station to 
 another than be under any obligation to his robbers. 
 
 Accordingly, avoiding M'Duff, who, to tell the truth, 
 was not very desirous of meeting him, the lad saddled 
 a colt, which he had bought some time before, and 
 rode to Ungahrun, getting there about lunch-time 
 
 Fitzgerald was not in when he arrived ; and he had 
 time to cool down a little before his host came home, 
 which he did about sundown. 
 
 " Holloa ! West, my boy ! awfully glad to see you ! 
 I've been looking for a visit this good while ; but I 
 
 suppose lamb But I say, old fellow," he broke 
 
 in, concernedly, as he noticed John's twitching fea- 
 tures, " what's the matter ? eh ? anything wrong ? " 
 
 John stammered out some unintelligible, broken, 
 excited words about M'Duff, old ewes, and Cosgrove. 
 Fitzgerald perceived that something must have been 
 radically wrong to disturb the lad's generally quiet 
 spirit in this fashion ; but he could not as yet under- 
 stand what it was all about. So bringing out some 
 brandy, he made John swallow a large glassful, and
 
 260 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 then, sitting down beside him, he gradually mastered 
 the details of the affair. 
 
 " Just like that fellow Cosgrove. Couldn't have ex- 
 pected anything better from him. As for old M'Duff*, 
 he is a tool — a willing tool — and will be used by Cos- 
 grove until he has grown useless, when he will have 
 to pass under the harrow himself. I feared something 
 of this sort before ; but having heard that Cosgrove 
 was your guardian, I was inclined to think that he 
 would be manly enough to act fairly by you." 
 
 The honest young squatter sympathised deeply with 
 John, more especially as he knew himself how much 
 interest the latter had taken in his employer's service. 
 They talked over the affair that night, and it ended by 
 Fitzgerald's inviting John to bring his sheep over to 
 Ungahrun until they finally made up their minds 
 what to do in the matter. 
 
 Gladly did our friend accept the kind offer ; and a 
 week afterwards he arrived at Ungahrun with his four- 
 footed property, like a patriarch on a small scale. 
 
 Old Mr Gray, whose judgment on matters relating 
 to sheep was very sound, rode over, at Fitzgerald's 
 request, and on examining the little mob, gave his 
 opinion that they were " culls " — that is, sheep drafted 
 out of other flocks for some fault, or on account of age. 
 They were not a very bad lot, which he put down to 
 the fact that the worst of them had died ; and lastly,
 
 SWINDLING A NEW CHUM. 261 
 
 he thought they might, in the present state of the 
 market, bring five shillings per head, and considered 
 that it would be advisable for John to part with them 
 after shearing, offering him, at the same time, the use 
 of his wool-shed for the purpose. 
 
 This view of matters having been also adopted by 
 Fitzgerald, our hero succeeded in getting his old crawl- 
 ers stripped of their coats, about a couple of months 
 afterwards, by Mr Gray's shearers, in the Betyammo 
 shed, and eventually had the pleasure of parting with 
 them to a buyer who, having sold his station at a high 
 price per head for the sheep on it, was on the look- 
 out for stock at a low figure to increase the purchase- 
 money. 
 
 A letter which West wrote to Mr Cosgrove, prompted 
 by Mr Gray, merely drew forth a reply to the effect 
 that all business matters were in the hands of Mr 
 M'Duff, who had been commissioned by him to invest 
 John's capital. This both Mr Gray and Fitzgerald 
 translated into watching the means by which he might, 
 at the most favourable opportunity, appropriate it to 
 the station use. Young West was now offered a home 
 by both of his kind friends; but he decided upon 
 choosing to stay at Ungahrun, having taken a great 
 liking to its open-hearted young master.
 
 262 
 
 CHAPTER XIX.. 
 
 THE LAND-FEVER — RALF COSGROVE RETURNS TO THE COLONY. 
 
 The next three years of John West's life passed witli a 
 rapidity unequalled in his former experience. Trusted 
 and esteemed by his friend Fitzgerald, he set his mind 
 to work on the one great object of making himself 
 useful to his employer, and of fitting himself to play 
 his part in life; and so thoroughly did he succeed, 
 that he soon learnt to manage the station as well as the 
 young squatter himself He speedily became a good 
 judge of stock, and an excellent bash-rider, if not a 
 first-class rough-rider — for there were few horses he 
 dared not back with a fair chance of remaining in 
 the saddle. 
 
 Emigration had in these years immensely increased 
 the population of the colony ; and the eager desire to 
 become landowners on the part of all who had saved 
 enough to take advantage of the very liberal terms 
 which the land laws of the country offered, had caused 
 most of the squatters to exercise their pre-emptive
 
 THE LAND-FEVER. 263 
 
 privileges largely, and Fitzgerald found himself obliged 
 to sink all his available capital in the purchase of those 
 lands which were his pride and boast, and of which 
 hitherto he had only been a lease-holder. The same 
 reason, and the higher price which wool had main- 
 tained so long, caused the eyes of the Queensland squat- 
 ters, and of those of the still more crowded-out south- 
 ern colonies, to turn to the great unexplored and un- 
 occupied lands of the far west and north, and exploring 
 parties were being constantly organised and sent out. 
 
 Among the explorers none had done better than 
 our old friend Stone. His push and reckless cheery 
 nature, joined to an unusual development of the organ 
 of locality, fitted him especially for the work of a 
 pioneer. It was fortunate for him also that his ex- 
 ploring fell in the comparatively early days of the 
 land-fever. Under the Crown Land Eegulations which 
 then existed, it was possible for any one riding over 
 land which had never before been occupied, to obtain 
 a lease of it from the Government on giving a rough 
 description of the boundaries, and paying a trifling 
 rent. This lease was sufficient to secure the tract of 
 land, no matter its extent, against the intrusion and 
 claims of all others ; and explorers having taken up 
 much country in this manner, found the sale of some 
 of it to stock-owners in search of " pastures new " a 
 most profitable business.
 
 264 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 Stone had been down staying at Betyammo once in 
 the course of the last three years, and during his visit, 
 which lasted several months, had managed to secure 
 the affection of pretty lively Bessie, among other pieces 
 of good fortune. He had again gone out on an expedi- 
 tion towards a river, on whose banks he was under the 
 belief that magnificent country was to be met with, 
 and he intended securing some of it for himself and 
 his future father-in-law, if possible. 
 
 John would sometimes ride over with Fitzgerald to 
 Betyammo for a day's amusement, or to spend Christ- 
 mas ; but the other was so much engaged with diffi- 
 culties about land and his business generally, that his 
 recreation time was limited. Occasionally John would 
 chaff his friend quietly about his feelings towards 
 Phoebe ; but it was plain that, much as he liked her 
 and the rest of the Betyammo party, he had never 
 thought seriously of her as a wife. He had clearly 
 never looked down into the depths of that transparent 
 and pure nature, nor had he the slightest idea that 
 Phoebe regarded him in any other light than that of 
 an old friend, — almost, indeed, a brother, — for, despite 
 his many advantages of person and station, Willie 
 Fitzgerald was not a vain man. Meantime the Cam- 
 baranga station had received a temporary addition to 
 its staff. 
 
 This was Ealf Cosgrove, the scapegrace son of
 
 EALF COSGROVE RETURNS TO THE COLONY. 265 
 
 * « 
 
 John's unprincipled guardian, who had at last been 
 sent out by his father to the colony, but who spent 
 more of his time in the congenial atmosphere of fast 
 life in Sydney than in looking after business on the 
 Cambaranga run. Although still little more than a 
 lad, he had been initiated in England into the ways of 
 " flash " society. He had felt it indeed an honour to 
 be on familiar terms with some of those celebrated 
 individuals whose evil fame rested upon an ability to 
 maintain a balance, with one foot on either side the 
 line which divides the square from the cross sections 
 of humanity. He felt pride in clapping the shoulder 
 of Jack Pelham (who was credited with having several 
 times " got at " horses before the race they were entered 
 for came off) and taking a drink with him; and he 
 was on the best of terms with Captain Poole, the 
 notorious billiard-player, whose success had estranged 
 all his old companions. 
 
 He gratified his father by picking up a betting 
 intimacy with Lord De-la-Turf and the Hon. Mr Eing- 
 bone, the latter of whom speedily managed to ease him 
 of £1000 at one fell swoop, which his father, with 
 many conflicting feelings of anger and pride, paid, and 
 for some months afterwards walked about with the 
 stump of the cheque in his pocket, as a proof of the 
 pluck his boy had exhibited in gambling with a real 
 nobleman.
 
 266 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 It was not long, however, before claims of a similar 
 sort showered in on all sides — for Ealf, taking a one- 
 sided view of the case, looked upon all gains as being 
 exclusively his own, while his debts were as entirely 
 his father's. 
 
 The scamp who had been his father's stable-boy, 
 and whom John West had once soundly thrashed, 
 was his most favoured companion. Mr William Cane 
 had long ago discarded his earlier profession as being 
 unworthy of his genius, and had adopted the more 
 congenial one of living on what he could pick up in 
 general, and from Ealf in particular, who was cajoled 
 and sneered at, bullied, and coaxed or flattered, as 
 best suited the purposes of the leader under whose 
 guidance his career in vice had been fostered and 
 furthered. In outward appearance there was much 
 dissimilarity between the two. Ealf, about two or 
 three years the younger, was of the middle size, slight 
 in figure, with sharp features, and a long, prominent 
 chin ; his forehead was low, and he wore his straight 
 black hair long. Cane, on the other hand, was stout 
 and broad, rather short, with a thick bullet -neck, a 
 remarkably heavy, lowering expression of countenance, 
 and a square, thick jaw. His manners had acquired 
 a certain amount of flash polish from contact with his 
 betters, but his vulgarity and brutality of speech 
 and mind clung to him like a garment.
 
 RALF COSGKOVE RETURNS TO THE COLONY. 267 
 
 I As may be imagined, the elder Cosgrove found that 
 this drain on his purse was by no means desirable. 
 In vain, however, he stormed and swore, — the calls 
 became only the more urgent. Debts privately ac- 
 cumulated, to be found out when their magnitude no 
 longer permitted concealment ; and at last he decided 
 upon sending his son back to Australia, hoping that 
 station life and new duties would induce him to adopt 
 a more sober style of living. 
 
 One of the chief objects which Mr Cosgrove had in 
 view in shipping his son back to his native country 
 was to break the various connections which the young 
 man had formed. And he was so far successful. Even 
 Mr William Cane, who was at that time much im- 
 mersed in business (having two or three good lays on 
 hand), suffered his patron and dupe to depart unheeded. 
 
 Arrived in Sydney, young Cosgrove at once plunged 
 into the same sort of society as that from which he 
 had emerged in the mother country ; and he found the 
 capital of New South Wales so much to his taste, that 
 it was not until his money was spent, and further ad- 
 vances from Messrs Bond and Foreclose became neces- 
 sary, that these gentlemen were able to persuade him 
 of the propriety of paying a visit to his father's station. 
 
 At Cambaranga, Ealf did not increase his popularity. 
 He avoided Fitzgerald and John, and sought congenial 
 society in the little township of Yering, where he
 
 268 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 managed to while away a few days in the company of 
 Mr Dowlan, the sub-inspector of white police stationed 
 there. 
 
 Dowlan was an Irishman, rather well set up in 
 figure, but with a coarse vulgar face, and a snobbish, 
 sneaking nature. He fawned on any one who was 
 possessed of money or influence, and felt no more 
 shame in turning his back on those to-day whom he 
 had helped to drain dry yesterday, than he did in 
 filling himself with drink at the expense of any one 
 fool enough to pay for it. Even Ealf soon got sick 
 of his fulsome toadying and constantly repeated yarns, 
 and at last, on the plea of ill-health, once more took 
 his departure for Sydney, where he entered upon a 
 lengthened career of dissipation.
 
 269 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AN IMPUDENT INTRUDER. 
 
 Some six or eight months after this, on a hot after- 
 noon, several horsemen, with a number of pack-horses, 
 arrived at Cambaranga. They looked like gentlemen, 
 and as Mr M'Duff and Graham were from home, the 
 woman in charge of the cooking department went out 
 to meet the new-comers, and ask them inside. * By 
 their dress and inexperienced ways they seemed late 
 arrivals in the colony, and a good deal of fuss and 
 bustle was the immediate result of their unsaddling 
 and unpacking. 
 
 People living in the bush get quickly into the habit 
 of forming a very correct idea of the breeding and 
 social status of those applying for hospitality, from 
 outward appearance and manner ; and the kitchen- 
 woman soon settled in her own mind that one at least 
 of the strangers did not come up to the mark. His 
 habiliments, &c., were the same as the others', though 
 perhaps a trifle more outrd ; still she was accustomed
 
 270 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 to sucli variety of style, that her attention was more 
 attracted by his contemptuous, overbearing manner. 
 He had remained sitting on his horse, and on seeing 
 her approach, struck an attitude meant to convey an 
 idea of much dignified authority, and asked — 
 
 " Hi say, mistress, his M'Duff hin ? " 
 
 " No, sir," replied the woman, resenting a little the 
 familiar address, "Mr M'Duff is not at home. Who 
 shall I say has called ? " 
 
 *' Never you mind, hold girl; 'ere, take hoff my 
 saddle" (alighting). 
 
 " Me take off your saddle ! " said the woman, feeling 
 her dignity much hurt. "No, sir; ladies doesn't do 
 sich thing^s in this ver countrv." 
 
 " your pride ! Tell the groom to come 
 
 hand hunsaddle my 'oss," he continued, marching coolly 
 past her into the house, whence he issued shortly after- 
 wards, and invited the rest of the party to walk in 
 and make themselves at home. 
 
 The " haughty stranger " was our former acquaint- 
 ance, Mr William Cane, who, having been engaged in 
 professional business — which, while it filled his pockets 
 considerably, at the same time imperatively demanded 
 that he should, for a season at least, relieve the 
 mother country of his valuable presence — had turned 
 his attention towards the home of his friend and pupil. 
 
 On board ship he had given out that he was the
 
 AN IMPUDENT INTRUDER. 271 
 
 part-owner of a considerable station in the bush, — 
 and the scraps of information which he had picked up 
 from Ealf, and his knowledge of horse-tiesh, materially 
 assisted in the lie. 
 
 Some of the greenest youths, on their way out to 
 the land of promise, admired and courted this knowing 
 man of the world, and paid for their admiration accord- 
 ingly — for Mr Cane understood tricks of cards and 
 dice, as well as other descriptions of gambling. He 
 had heard nothing of Ealf since parting with him, but 
 determined to go to Cambaranga on the chance of 
 finding him there, or, at any rate, of getting reliable 
 information as to his whereabouts. 
 
 A short stay in Brisbane impressed him with the 
 dignity and importance of the larger squatters. -He 
 found that Mr Cosgrove was a considerable personage 
 in the colony, and accordingly his own influence over 
 Ealf induced him to take quite an authoritative interest 
 in the Cambaranga station. There was only a superin- 
 tendent there, while he was the intimate friend and 
 tutor of the heir. He had some intentions of manag- 
 ing the place himself. He might perhaps, for con- 
 venience' sake, retain the old manager as overseer, but 
 that would depend on circumstances. Such was the 
 general purport and tone of his meditations and con- 
 versation to all who would listen. It afforded amuse- 
 ment to those wdio knew the true state of things ; but
 
 272 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 the boundless arrogance of the man deceived himself as 
 well as some admiring greenhorns. On the whole, he 
 made a considerable sensation, and at last started up 
 country, in company of a few young friends who were 
 en route for their various destinations, and who were 
 invited by him to " spell " a few days at Cambaranga. 
 Mixing worldly shrewdness with the most consummate 
 ignorance, blending the grossest vulgarity with a cer- 
 tain experience of manner, something of a coward, yet 
 not without a kind of bull-dog pluck and ferocity, he 
 was by turns admired, laughed at, and feared ; but on 
 the whole, as a man of influence in the country, his 
 fellow-travellers regarded him with deference. 
 
 No one appearing to unsaddle his horse but an old 
 black gin, who had not as yet mastered the art of un- 
 doing a buckle, Mr Cane was forced to do the degrad- 
 ing work of taking off his horse's accoutrements him- 
 self, relieving his feelings by swearing volubly at the 
 ancient black female, who kept begging " toombacco " 
 in the most pertinacious manner. 
 
 Ee- entering the house, and ringing the bell, he 
 demanded that dinner should be prepared ; and as the 
 servant banged out of the door, by no means pleased 
 with the liberties taken by the stranger, he called after 
 her — 
 
 " Hi say, you, what's yer name ? Mother Igh-an- 
 mighty, 'oose 'ouse is that one hover there ? "
 
 AN IMPUDENT INTKUDEE. 273 
 
 " If 'ee speaks civil, sir, I'll answer 'ee ; but I ain't 
 agoin' to put up with imperence from 'ee or any other 
 pusson, I ain't, and so I just tell 'ee," replied the 
 woman, indignant at "being " called out of her proper 
 name." 
 
 "Well, don't go hand get yer back hup hover it. 
 Hi'll 'ave a look myself. Hi'm at 'ome 'ere, you know," 
 — and so saying, he marched over to the large house 
 and entered M'Duff's room. 
 
 " Ah ! 'ere we har', what's this ? Hold boy's papers, 
 rubbish ; my eye, what a lot of hold 'ats hand 'elmets ! 
 I think a 'elmet just suits me" (trying one on and 
 looking at himself in the glass). He then amused 
 himself by tumbling the various simple toilet articles 
 over, snapping the Colt's revolver which lay on the 
 table, and suddenly observing a bath, decided upon 
 indulging in that luxury, which the state of his cuticle 
 rendered highly necessary. With his usual free-and- 
 easy habits, he helped himself to two or three different 
 towels, leaving them lying on the floor when done 
 with, and also coolly exchanged his own tarnished socks 
 for a fresh pair, the soiled articles keeping the used 
 . towels company. He next proceeded on a search for 
 liquor, and in one of the toilet drawers came upon a 
 key which opened a small closet in the room contain- 
 ing M'Duff's private store — for, as may be imagined, 
 
 Mr Cosgrove was not the man to supply any luxuries 
 VOL. I. s
 
 274 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 free of charge to those employed by him. While en- 
 <]fasred in this manner, the kitchen-woman came over 
 to see what he was about, and she could hardly believe 
 her eyes when she met the stranger carrying out some 
 bottles from the sacred store — for M'Duff was a per- 
 fect autocrat on the place, and his room forbidden to 
 all. 
 
 " Doan't 'ee take they bottles, sir," she cried ; 
 "they be Mr M'DufF's ; he woan't like 'ee touch- 
 ing 'em." 
 
 " Now mother Igh-an-mighty, clear out o' this, or 
 maybe you'll get the sack, and M'Duff too. Hi'm 
 agoin' to be master 'ere. Hi'm Mr Cosgrove's friend." 
 
 The astonished woman, not being able to do other- 
 wise, therefore allowed the audacious stranger to pass, 
 and he was soon the centre of a thoughtless and bois- 
 terous circle. 
 
 Just before dark M'Duff rode up. The travellers 
 were gathered in a group outside, and his authorita- 
 tive manner at once intimated who he was, and even 
 Cane felt a little awe of him. Bronzed, weatherbeaten, 
 and "bearded like tlie pard," he dismounted from a 
 very noble -looking steed, which he commenced un- 
 saddling, after bidding a cheerful good evening in his 
 gruff voice to the strangers, — for he rather liked the 
 prospect of hearing the news of what was going on 
 down below. Advancing with as dignified an air as
 
 f; I! / 
 
 AN IMPUDENT INTRUDER. 275 
 
 he could assume, Mr Cane opened conversation with a 
 remark about the horse, 
 
 "Hi say, mister, that's a right 'un. 'As 'e hever 
 done hanything ? " 
 
 Now M'Duff knew quite well that the question re- 
 ferred to his horse's performances on the turf; but 
 taking in the appearance, and measuring the experience 
 of the group at a glance, he pretended innocence, and 
 replied simply, " Oh yes." 
 
 " Ah ! wot 'ave 'e done ? " 
 
 "He has carried me for the last ten years," answered 
 the bushman, chuckling, as he bore his saddle past into 
 the harness-room, and then made for his own apart- 
 ment. Amazed at its condition, he called the female 
 attendant, who volubly described what had happened. 
 Keeping his temper, although much enraged, M'Duff 
 was about returning to his guests, when he once more 
 was accosted by his cool visitor. 
 
 "Hi say, mister, perhaps you don't know 'oo hi 
 ham ? " 
 
 M'Duff now had a shrewd guess, for in several 
 letters the elder Cosgrove had warned him to keep 
 a look-out for his son's acquaintances. Nevertheless, 
 he shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. 
 
 " Hi thought has much. Well, hi ham a most petick- 
 lar and very hintimate friend of your master's, hand hi 
 hexpex you to show me hevery hattention."
 
 276 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 The grim Super's choler was only kept down at this 
 stage by the bitterness of the surprise with which he 
 meditated overwhelming the self-sufficient snob. 
 
 "Oh, indeed, sir; I beg your pardon. You have 
 not given me the honour of your name." 
 
 "My name his Cane — Mister Cane." 
 
 " Very good, Mister Cane, we'll attend to you," said 
 the Boss, walking over to the bachelor's quarters, 
 followed by the "peticklar friend." 
 
 Graham shortly afterwards came in, and was sur- 
 prised at the comedy which was being enacted before 
 him. A coarse, vulgar-looking, youthful stranger was 
 doing host, entertaining his audience with stories of 
 his intimacy with celebrities of doubtful reputation, 
 and patronising M'Duff, who seemed determined to 
 allow things to take their course. 
 
 This strange farce was carried on until bedtime, when 
 M'Duff, whose fierce rage had nearly choked him, got 
 up and proposed to retire. All rose to prepare, with 
 the exception of Cane, who, pouring out another glass 
 of spirits, asked — 
 
 " Where ham hi to be disposed ? " 
 
 " Come here," said M'Duff, gently, and leading him 
 to the door before the company, he pointed to the 
 bright moon and the dusky bush. " There," he said 
 — "there is your candle, and that is your bed." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked the surprised youth.
 
 AN IMPUDENT INTEUDER. 277 
 
 "I mean this," said M'Duff in determined tones, 
 "that you don't sleep under this roof, and that you 
 had better never show yourself here again, if you don't 
 want to be arrested on a charge of housebreaking." 
 
 A scene now ensued, Cane furiously indignant, curs- 
 ing and swearing, protesting his influence, and at last 
 offering to fight everybody. Every one, however, sup- 
 ported grim old M'Duff, who adhered to his policy of 
 the moon and bush. 
 
 "Hi can't sleep there," expostulated at length the 
 mortified and humbled boaster. 
 
 " Then you may go to the blacks' camp, where you 
 will find society to suit you," growled out the ruffled 
 " old man," as he assisted Mr Cane outside. 
 
 Whether he passed the night there, or caught his 
 horse and rode away, none of them learnt ; but next 
 morning no traces of him were to be found, and con- 
 siderable amusement resulted from a comparison of his 
 speeches and the real state of the case. Cane found 
 his w^ay down to Sydney, where he was not long in 
 discovering his friend among the associates they both 
 delighted in, and soon the old influence reasserted it' 
 self stronger than ever. 
 
 Mr Cosgrove, senior, still remained at home. His 
 crafty counsels, together with M'Duff's vigorous man- 
 agement, and a favourable state of the wool market, 
 contributed to keep his affairs in a prosperous state.
 
 278 BUSH-LIFE IN QUEENSLAND. 
 
 He had got into a kind of society which he enjoyed 
 — money-making sporting-men, among whom the pos- 
 session of money and worldly experience gave him a 
 position. 
 
 He had never married again. He did not care for 
 domestic life, and his step -daughter Euth saw but 
 little of him. Nevertheless he was fond of her in 
 a way, and always left some means at her disposal. 
 Perhaps it was the memory of her gentle mother ; 
 perhaps the cold, unscrupulous man sometimes felt 
 a sting of remorse when he remembered the bitter 
 agony of that passing spirit leaving behind her the 
 unprotected little one. Whatever it was, he never 
 was unkind to his step-daughter, who would willingly 
 have loved him in return had he given her the oppor- 
 tunity. She had grown exceedingly pretty, and pro- 
 mised a further development of loveliness ; but her 
 chief charm lay in her gentle composed manner. 
 Early thought and suffering had much to do in bring- 
 ing out the better part of her self-reliant nature, and 
 the lady under whose tuition she was placed had skil- 
 fully trained that which she found so ready to bend 
 to her will. She had few companions, and the greater 
 part of her time was occupied with work and reading. 
 
 It was a great relief when her step-brother Ealf took 
 his departure for Australia. His irregularities and 
 coarse ways distressed her, and the scenes between him
 
 MR COSGROVE AT HOME. 279 
 
 and his father often rendered the house unpleasant. 
 Her thoughts often reverted to the happy hours she 
 had passed with John, but she had never heard 
 anything about him since he left, except through Mr 
 Cosgrove, who had mentioned his safe arrival at the 
 station, and his having heard once or twice from him. 
 After a time he replied to her inquiries rather gruffly, 
 that John had behaved very ungratefully, and had 
 taken his departure from the station. Since then his 
 whereabouts had been hid from her, and she feared to 
 ask her step-father further ; but the memory of John's 
 gentle brotherly attention and manly kindness were 
 among her most cherished recollections. She much 
 wondered that he had never written to her. She 
 would have done so herself, but she feared he would 
 think her forward. Yet she was not without hopes of 
 seeing him again ; for often when he received reports 
 of his son's unsteadiness, Mr Cosgrove would threaten 
 a return to Australia. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
 
 ~^ /
 
 •
 
 
 
 ■■ "^'K •V-'*. .--fi- -!>-■■ 'wajiBMM 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOI8-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 046410285 
 
 t-j:;! 
 
 
 ."".if.?; 
 
 i" !'>.'■ ■;•-■•• ''V '■?:-, 
 
 
 J- .■•■J 'jJs^«; . 
 
 "J- '7r^- 
 
 -•.%''! -■ft" iL- ' f*''~ 't ■"<''■--'■■ •'*»*w^??59P 
 
 
 
 ;;'tA3.^:i^j,;^.. ,-'■*-■■ 
 
 ' -''''--■;* Vi'j'^, '-&?'-■■'' ■^-- ■•j^-i 
 
 
 
 ■w. 
 
 pfi|^:^ 
 
 ■^ ■■rVv-5£iJ