Part 12

"Well, it took us a goodish bit to fix 'im up. I forgot ter say that we tied the third rope round 'is neck, an' that was no easy job, fur every time the Cap threw the lasso he'd dodge it with 'is 'ed like a fightin' kangaroo. But, ter make a long story short, when we'd roped 'im, we levered one of the logs with saplin's so's ter git 'is other leg free. Then, didn't 'e play up! But by the time we'd given 'im arf a dozen falls, an' two o' them riglar croppers, 'e seed it was no use, throws up the sponge, an' comes along quietly.

"We didn't give 'im any charnse, you bet, as 'e was such a sly demon. So we got 'im ter the stockyard at the 'ead station, a matter o' thirteen mile or so. We put 'im in the crush fust, then got a 'evvy 'alter on 'im, an' tied it to 'is front off leg so's 'e cuddent jump; in that way we fixed 'im fur the night.

"Early nex' morning, just as I was thinkin' o' gittin' up, there comes a tremenjious 'ammerin' an' bangin' at the door, shoutin' out sumthin' I cuddent understand. I jumps up an' opens the door, an' there was ole Jack singin' out an' makin' a great fluster.

"'What in thunder's the matter, Jack?' ses I.

"'Warrigal's gone!' ses 'e, all tremblin' like. 'Cleared right out in the night.'

"Off I rushes ter the yards, an' sure enuff, the beast had cleared; yet the rails was up.

"''Ow the dickens 'e got out, Jack?' ses I, lookin' round. Presently I comes ter the slip-rails, an' soon spots 'ow 'e done it. I'm blest if the ole cuss didn't lay down ter it at the rails an' 'riggled 'is way out sideways. You cud see the ground all tore up by 'is 'oofs as 'e inched 'is way out. There was a knot at the lower side o' the rail, an' it was covered with 'air an' blood, which shows what a tight squeeze it was."

"But 'ow the blazes did he gat out iv th' pathock whin he was knee-haltered?"

"Like enuff 'e worked 'is 'edstall off as 'e 'riggled through. We thought we'd made it tight enuff fur anythin'. Anyways 'e cleared, an', what's more, 'e an' the mares moved off the run an' wasn't 'eard of fur long, then 'e was found bossin' a mob on Bullaroi."

By this time the men had reached the homestead. Leaving the others at the stockyard, Harry proceeded to the house to break the bad news to the owner.

The squatter was greatly put out by the turn the affair had taken. Two of the horses were brood mares on which he set a high value, and for which he had given a big price. They were full of breeding, having the famed Gemma di Vergi strain on the sire's side. The occurrence was no less than a calamity in more ways than one.

Their location was in difficult country, and with such a rogue as the grey outlaw to lead and direct, the job of rescue seemed by no means easy or certain. Mr. M'Intyre, however, was determined to regain his mares, and at the same time to capture or destroy that equine demon. One thing in his favour was the fact that in midsummer there was a scarcity of water in the ranges, and their run, for a while, at any rate, must be in and about the foot-hills.

As was usual in those days, the neighbouring station-holders were invited to join in the brumby hunt, which is, as a rule, the most exciting, and, at times the most dangerous, sport that Australia can furnish, keenly relished by bushmen.

The brumby is no more a native Australian horse than the mustang is a native American horse; that is to say, it is not indigenous to the country. Brumbies are the descendants of imported horses which have escaped into the bush and bred there.

When Australian settlements were confined to the barest fringe of the continent, it was very common for stock, both horses and cattle, to stray from the settled areas into the great wilderness beyond.

An historic illustration is to be found in the genesis of colonial expansion. When the first expedition sailed from England, not only were officials, soldiers, and convicts shipped; but also an assortment of domestic animals to furnish the requirements of the penal colony proposed to be established on the shores of Botany Bay.

As the cattle in the new settlements increased, many beasts strayed beyond the borders of the occupied country to the interior forests and plains; and before very long "brumbies" (wild horses) and "scrubbers" (wild cattle) covered large tracts, often to the great annoyance of the advancing line of settlers.

*CHAPTER XX*

*THE BRUMBY HUNT*

"Like a wintry shore that the waters ride o'er, All the lowlands are filling with sound; For swiftly we gain where the mobs of the plain Like a tempest are tearing the ground! And we'll follow them hard to the rails of the yard, Over gulches and mountain-tops grey, Where the beat and the beat of our swift horses' feet Will die with the echoes away." HENRY KENDALL.

"How many are coming to the hunt to-morrow, dad?"

"About a score all told, my son. That is," continued the speaker somewhat inconsequently, "if they a' turn up."

"Gills coming, ain't they?"

"Yes; the old man, son, and ane o' the stockmen'll be here this evening, so as to be ready for the early stairt the morn's morn. That reminds me, I've no telt your mother. They'll be here aboot supper-time."

"Captain White coming, I s'pose?"

"If he's above ground. We'd best coont 'em up. Get a bit o' paper, Saundy, and pit doon the names. Then we'll ken for sure."

"Ready, father."

"Pit doon oor ain lot first. Mysel', you, Hairry, the blacks, Denny, the bullock driver, the ration carrier, Redgate and Broon from the oot-station, Joe, Tom, N-eville--I suppose. Hoo mony's that?"

"Thirteen."

"So mony's that? At that rate we'll hae ower a score. Weel, that's a' the better. Let's see, noo: pit doun the Gill lot, that's three more. Then there's Captain White. Old Dumaresque says he'll be along, but I dinna reckon on him, so you needna coont him in. White's going to bring twa men wi' him. And, m-yes, there's Davison o' the bank, and Dickson the lawyer. Told 'em the other day I'd let 'em know. They'll need to be here the nicht, too. We'd better send Willy in wi' a message at once. That's a' noo I think. Hoo mony does that tot up?"

"Twenty-one not counting the Colonel."

"Weel, I hope they'll turn up, that's a'."

"I say, father, could Jimmy Flynn an' Yellow Billy come?"

"Eh? Weel, I--I dinna ken. Can they ride?"

"Ride? Listen to him! Why, Yellow Billy's the boss rider among the boys. You know his steer----"

"Ah weel," said Mr. M'Intyre laughingly, "we'll hae 'em. Send word by the boy."

Accordingly, the invitation was taken to the four Tareelians. Gill and party turned up about dark, and shortly after them the town lot, all of whom were welcomed by their hospitable host.

M'Intyre had made extensive preparations for the hunt. There are various methods for trapping wild horses. The one in vogue at Bullaroi and the surrounding stations was that called the "wing" trap. This consists, first of all, in determining the usual brumby run. The next work, and an important one, is the building of yards in a locality specially selected, the object being to get as near as possible to the natural line of the horses' travel when stampeded.

The yards must be well constructed, with a high, strong fence, having an open mouth so wide as to give the hunted steed no suspicion of running into a trap. The upper and nether lips of this mouth, after running parallel a short distance, gradually converge to the throat, as it were, finally meeting, and forming a cul-de-sac.

From the mouth extremity a vast roll of canvas, or, rather, calico strips about six inches wide, is made fast to one of the fence terminals, and from there, at a slight outward angle, is often taken for miles, being secured at intervals to trees or stakes which are driven into the ground. The wing is fixed breast high. This, to the inexperienced, seems but a flimsy obstacle; but the calico barrier, frail as it appears, acts as an effectual boundary. Brumbies are both timid and suspicious, and very rarely charge a wing. When driven on to one they wheel either to right or left, with never a thought of breaking through or jumping it.

The strategy of the "drive" is to station men at intervals from the terminal point of the wing; each man is armed with a heavy stock whip, a cruel enough weapon in the hands of an adept. Others are left at the trap-yard mouth on the outward side, concealed as a rule, and ready to dart out and head the mob should it scent danger when nearing the opening. The remainder of the men proceed to locate and enflank the mob, and drive them in the given direction. This, often, is a very difficult matter, and sometimes the best laid scheme is defeated by a determined and irresistible rush of the mob in the teeth of their assailants.

Premising the "round up" and drive to be successful as far as the wing, the wing supports wheel them in the right direction; then close in and pass to the outside to strengthen the flank men, who now form a parallel line with the racing brumbies. Thus, with the calico wing on one side, a living, whip-cracking, yelling cordon on the other, and a harrying force behind, the spectacle is as brilliant and as exciting as Australia can furnish in the line of sport.

At sunrise, on a glorious morning in mid January, the Bullaroi party, well mounted, wend their way to the appointed rendezvous, from whence the amalgamated forces are to proceed to the brumby grounds.

The men and boys are variously mounted. All the horses, however, are used to stock work; some of them, within certain limits, being as intelligent as the men who bestride them. Many of them are what is known as "camp horses"; that is, horses trained for mustering and cutting out work on the cattle camp. Quick to wheel, to dodge, to out-manoeuvre the charging bullock, and even to divine the enemy's intention; skilful in wedging through a pack; ready to advance backwards, so to speak, and to use heels when head and shoulders unavail; needing scarce any control, and with a keen zest for the work, the camp horse is an invaluable auxiliary on a cattle run.

Both M'Intyre and Gill were specially well mounted on favourites of the above-named variety. The price of each was regarded by its rider as beyond rubies. Both men were strong-boned, grizzled, and expert bushmen, with not a superfluous ounce of flesh on their bodies. Neville was of the company. He had learned many things in the intervening days; the first, and most essential, was that England could furnish no precedent to Australia in things that are peculiar to station life. He gradually dropped his pet phrase, "The way we do things in England." The scales had fallen from his eyes concerning many things "Colonial."

Mr. M'Intyre, who liked him, paid him no little attention. He rode out on the run with him, giving common-sense hints in his dry way, from time to time, which his guest was ready enough to take. He learned to ride fairly well, and, after many mortifying failures, could crack a stock whip without entangling it in the horse's legs.

Mr. M'Intyre was dubious about Neville going. The Englishman, however, was so set on joining the cavalcade that to object seemed discourtesy. All hints of the danger attached to this expedition were scouted. So, on this eventful morning, mounted on his host's favourite hack, Curlew, the visitor formed one of the company.

The others need no description. With spirits mounting high in anticipation they pass over open plain, through brigalow scrub, along box ridges, and across country on a ten-mile spin to a spot on Rocky Creek called the Glen--a place already decided upon. As there was no knowing to what extent the powers of both men and horses would be tried during the day, the journey was made at a moderate speed, so as to spare them for the arduous task of the drive.

The pals, on this occasion six in number, were compelled to curb their tendencies to fun and frolic; though there were some very tempting and well-nigh irresistible inducements to spurts as the game rose or scudded before them. Inviting jumps, too, lured them; but high jump or low jump, kangaroo or emu, charm they never so wisely, are resisted.

But their tongues are uncurbed. How they did chatter, to be sure! It did the older members good to hear their gay and joyous prattle. Their views of life in general, and brumby hunting in particular, were novel and unconventional. They settled everything touching the day's proceedings, from the place of the "find" to the number yarded. All that the warrigal might do, and all that they would positively do to circumvent him, together with many other things, were discussed with the self-confidence of youth.

In due time the Glen is reached, and the Bullaroi party find that they are first upon the scene.

"Off saddles all o' you. Must ease the horses a' we can. Saundy, you and the boys mak a fire and get the billy going. Denny, bring the tucker-bag from the pack-saddle. Mr. Neville, what in the name of common-sense are ye tying yure nag to that dead tree for?"

"What's wrong with it, sir?"

"What's richt wi' it, mon?"

"I--I--don't know what you mean."

"Boss means yer a fool ter tie the moke up in the blazing sun," said Harry in an undertone, as he passed by the new chum. "Put 'im under a shade tree same as the rest of us."

"Beg pardon, yes--er--I see," answered he, mortified for a moment, as he moved from the leafless trunk to a clump of currajongs, whose thick foliage effectually screened the sun's rays.

"Wot sort of a bloke's that 'ere cove?" asked Jimmy Flynn of Tom Hawkins. "He's a regular greeny, ain't he?"

"Oh, a good enough sort!" replied Tom. "He's new, but he's a learner. He picks up pretty fast, considering. You should 'a' seen him when he came here first; my word, he was a greenhorn then!"

"Here's the Captain, father!" sang out Sandy, as three men cantered up the track.

"Guid-day, White! Guid-day, men! Glad to see you. Off saddle and join us in a tot o' tea and a bite."

"Good-day, M'Intyre! By George! you've got quite a troop, man. Day, Dickson! Day, Davidson! What on earth do you townies think you're going to do? Stand a good chance, Dickson, of cracking your skull and spilling all that legal soph--I mean lore, that's bottled up there. Oh, I say, Mac, old Dumaresque's coming along," rattled on the Captain.

"I'll believe it when I see him, no' afore. The auld boy's better at hame when this wark's on."

"Well, all I know is that he sent me word last night by one of the men, and cautioned me to be sure and tell you."

"If he comes he comes, and if he disna he'll no' be much missed. Noo, boys, bring in the tea!"

"By Jove! M'Intyre, your wife's a sensible woman: this is the sort of grub to work on. Last month I was over at the Glenormiston mustering. De Little asked me to join him at midday after a heavy morning's work, and as I was as hungry as ten hunters I readily consented. What d'ye think he produced from his tucker-bag? Some lettuce sandwiches, no less; and cream puffs! De Little's as good as gold, you know, so I couldn't refuse to take some; but, I give you my word, I strolled over to his men as soon as I could get away decently, and got a slice of beef and a chunk of damper."

"Hoo's De Little getting on?"

"Well, between you and me and the billy-can, he's no more cut out for a squatter than for an archangel. Pity he ever left London. He'd be more at home in Rotten Row. Hello! here's the old Colonel and two boys. Seeing will dissipate even your scepticism, Mac."

Dumaresque was a choleric but plucky old superannuated Indian officer, who on his retirement came over to Australia and purchased a small cattle run, living bachelor fashion. He was now quite old, yet fancied himself equal to any toil. To hint at his age infirmities was to raise a very sirocco of indignant language.

"Hello, Cornel! wha'd 'a' thocht that you----"

"Stop, M'Intyre, stop! I know right well, sir, what you are going to remark. If you, sir, look upon a bit of a brumby hunt as an extraordinary thing, let me inform you that to me 'tis but a trifle. Why, man, when I was stationed on the northern frontier----"

"Yes, yes, Dumaresque," broke in the Captain, who knew the other's weakness, "we're all delighted to see you. Just in time for a pannikin of tea and a mouthful. Here you, Dick, Tom, Harry, one of you, take the Colonel's horse."

A few minutes later the men filed out of the Glen, and proceeded along the creek to a spur in the foot-hills. Then they left the water-shed, crossing the spur, from which they continued up a grassy valley which extended nearly three miles before it broadened out into an open plain, lightly timbered at the upper or ridge side, but perfectly treeless at its other extremity.

Two-thirds of the way up the valley, in a belt of box trees, was the trap-yard. The trap mouth, before described, extended across the belt to the outermost verge.

After a short inspection of the yard the calico wing was fixed. It was attached to the terminal post of the yard mouth, nearest to the ridge that skirted the valley on the top side. From thence it was taken in a straight line on the ridge side of the valley, until the plain was reached. From this point, inclining slighting outward and made fast at short intervals, it extended right across the plain, ending in a clump of iron-barks.

"Noo, men, ye'll jist hae a wee bit grub and then we'll stairt."

The meal was soon dispatched, and a short consultation ensued. M'Intyre apportioned the men their places. Six, under Gill, were located in the iron-bark clump. Five others were sent back to the trap-yard, two miles distant, to assigned duty there. The remaining sixteen were to execute the task of first "feeling" the enemy; then of outflanking them; and, finally, directing the stampede.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*THE WARRIGAL'S STRATEGY*

"Hast thou given the horse his might? Hast thou clothed his neck with the quivering mane?

* * * * *

The glory of his snorting is terrible. He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength. He goeth out to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear and is not dismayed.

* * * * *

He smelleth the battle afar off: The thunder of the captains, and the shouting." JOB.

"Noo, men, we'll be on the move."

The leader sprang to his horse and directed him on to the plain.

"Where do you expect to pick 'em up, Mac?"

"Micht sicht them at ony minute, maybe no' for hours; maybe no' at a', Captain."

"Willy and Jacky, you gang on aheed and keep your een weel peeled for signs. No sae fast, lads; mustna spoil the sport at the stairt. Let the blacks get weel aheed. We maun sicht them afore they tak alairm, or it'll be a hopeless stern chase."

Joe, Tom, and Sandy, greatly to their delight, were with the "flying column." Yellow Billy was with the trap contingent, while Jimmy Flynn was stationed with Mr. Gill in the iron-bark clump. Neville, at his earnest request, was given a place with Mr. M'Intyre.

As soon as he touched the myall country, the leader cautiously skirted it, until the party were well out and away from the range of hills that continued on the eastern side. He then took an inward course, and made a slant which carried them back to the foot-hills.

So far there was neither sight nor sound of the mob, nor were there any indications of their presence at any recent date. From the range base another tack was taken, which brought them upon the edge of a scrub that had wedged itself into the plain. By this time the column had covered a lot of ground.

"We'll fringe the timber for a while, and then, if we've nae luck, we'll hae to divide; half to go into the ranges, and the other to keep richt along the plain. Keep weel in, lads, we'll cut that pint," continued the leader, as the men moved on through the outer fringe of scrub; while out on the plain, which was dotted with rosewood and myall clumps, the black boys moved with lithe and stealthy movements.

"Father, I hear a whistle!"

"Hist, men! quiet all o' ye!"

"There it's again!" exclaimed Sandy after a moment's silence, as a low whistle came from the plain. "That's Jacky's whistle, dad, sure enough. I'd know it among a thousand----"

"A' richt, my boy. Jacky's got something. We'll move oot quietly and see."

Wheeling to the right, the column soon arrived at the spot indicated by Jacky's whistle. The black boy stood by the side of his horse, pointing to some fresh droppings and to numerous hoof-tracks.

"What is it, Jacky?" exclaimed Mr. M'Intyre as the men rode up.

"Blendy brumby bin here, Boss, few minutes ago."

The tracks and signs were so fresh that, as the black said, it was only the question of a few minutes since they occupied the spot.

"Most fortunate we've got ahint them. They're near by. At ony moment we micht sicht them. Ye'll fa' into a doubble column, men. Captain, ye'll tak seeven men and I'll keep the ithers. We'll hae twa columns a hunder yairds apairt."

In this fashion the men proceeded slowly, with a black boy ahead of each column as a scout, and following the tracks of the brumbies. As predicted, in a few minutes Willy held up a warning hand.

The columns quickly closed up to the scouts, and their leaders saw, through the willow-like branches of a myall clump, the long-sought-for mob. The horses were standing close together in an expectant attitude. Their suspicions were aroused. Though they had not scented the wind of their pursuers, nevertheless, with that wonderful _something_ so common in wild things, they _felt_ the enemy's presence.

The intervening distance was about three hundred yards. According to arrangement, each column opened out at its head, with the object of outflanking the horses. Silently the columns wheeled to the left and right sharply, and then moved forward. While in the act of executing this tactic their presence was detected, and scanned in a moment. Then, with a snort, or rather a fusilade of snorts and neighs, heads erected, manes and tails streaming, away flew the alarmed steeds; and in swift pursuit, maintaining their formation, the men followed.

There was no intention of unduly alarming the brumbies, therefore all shoutings and stock-whip crackings were restrained. And now the hunters begin to feel the ardour of the chase, both horses and men; for so eager were the station horses to join in the hunt that the riders were obliged to take a double pull on them.

Neville, in the excitement of the raid, forgot the orders, and broke his line, making a rush for the tail of the flying mob. The Captain, however, nipped his intention in the bud with a few red-hot expletives, ordering the Englishman back to his place in the line.

The brumbies, when started, were about eight miles from the wing, and headed directly for it, going off from the jump with a fine burst. The wily warrigal, however, was not going to be run off his legs in a spurt; in a short time the breakneck pace is moderated, and the straggling mob close up.

The horsemen hung on the flanks of the galloping steeds, steadying into an accommodating pace, and, as previously directed, making a semicircle, whose points extended beyond the sides of the retreating animals. The station mares were in the mob, capering for the moment as wildly as any in their company. Tallboy lagged somewhat in the rear. He had evidently received scant courtesy from the brumbies. It was observed that his heart was not in this matter. Had they wished, the horsemen could easily have cut him out of the mob.