AN ADVENTURE WITH WILD CATTLE.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVI, Issue 3265, 23 October 1897, Page 1 (Supplement)

AN ADVENTURE WITH WILD CATTLE.

A STORY OP THE OLDEN DAYS IN EANGITIKEI. [By ‘‘ Hokioi.”] It was in July or August, 1863, that I found myself riding along the sea-beach between Scott’s Perry and the mouth of the Turakina river. I was coming that way for a short cut, though, as will be seen when my story is told, I found it long enough. To those who knew the track, this route saved a considerable distance. But it was the first time I had tried it, having always kejpt to the coach road, via Parewanui and Bulls. How I came to take the beach route may be explained thus wise. I had been to Otaki—on horseback, of course, there being no other way of getting up and down the Coast in those days, except by Cobbs’ coach, which ran twice a week between Wellington and Wanganui. The journey occupied two days, the passengers spending one night at the Wharangi, an accommodation house kept by the late Mr W. Langley, only a little distance from the mouth of the Manawatu river. Those who travelled by Cobb in those early days will, I dare say, have some slight recollection of their experiences at the accommodation house referred to, including the perils .of the whale-boat and the many .discomforts of the trip. And yet, withal, it was rare fun to travel down the Coast in those early days, when one was almost sure to meet with adventures of one kind or another. But lam forgetting my story. As my readers are aware, I was on my way back to Wanganui from a visit to Otaki. I was not quite as familiar with Coast geography as I afterwards came to be, and being overtaken by night when between the Manawatu and the Bangitikei rivers, I turned off the beach at a creek a little to the south of the last-mentioned river, thinking I was making for Scott’s Perry. I floundered about among the sandhills, swamps and creeks for two or three hours, completely losing myself, and finally found my way back to the beach, guided by the noise of the surf.

After a little more exploration, I dis covered my mistake, and following the beach-some two or three miles further, (which I ought to have done in the first instance) I ultimately arrived at the accommodation house about 2 a.m, both myself and my steed completely knocked up, “ Old Scott,” as he was generally called, demanded full particulars of my adventures and business before he would get up to give me admittance, and then proceeded to read me a lecture on the folly of young men (I was a beardless youth at the time) travelling up and down the Coast without some responsible person to look after them. I got to know the old man very much better in after years, and esteemed his sterling worth accordingly. He was well named " Scott,” and a more genuine son of Scotia I never met. He has passed away a good many years, but I am sure that numbers who read this narrative will recollect the person referred to, and his estimable, kindly wife, now also gone to her long home. After a glass of Glenlivet, in which ray host joined me, having first administered a severe rebuke fcr wbat ho considered my cruel treatment of my animal, I got to rest about 3 o’clock in the -morning, and slept -the sleep of the weary, 7 dpne-np traveller .for nearly twelve Honrs consecutively. Scott again upbraided me next, day for having over-ridden my steed, which he said was unlit to go further, and would require a spell for a couple of days at least. 1 explained that I was due in Wanganui, and that being detained might mean loss and trouble; '

He-at first demurred to lending me a mount, alleging that-I was not fit to bo trusted with a horse of any kind. Finally, after much persuasion, he consented to lend me a horse which, as it was unshod, I was to ride to Turakina, by the beach, and not to take beyond that village, either getting another horse to complete my journey or travelling by coach. The horse was got in off the run and duly inspected, Scott assuring me he would carry me right enough, but be was not so sure about his intelligence, *■ and wi’ no one to guide you two half-daft bodies, there is no sayin' what may happen." Verily his words were abundantly verified.

Before leaving I was duly instructed iu the landmarks I was to observe, with other general directions for my guidance to my destination.

The days were short, and if my steed was sure he was mournfully slow also. To make a long story short, I got duly benighted, spent the hours of darkness among the sandhills, and finally reached Turakina about noon next day. There was no use my going on to Wanganui then, as the hour of my appointment had already gone by. I therefore determined to return to Scott*s, prepared for the ignominious reception I might expect, under the circumstances, and ride homo to Wanganui leisurely on my own horse the following day. Leaving Turakina about 3 p.m., I had no misgivings about the return journey, as X was sure the horse would know his way home.

Alas! ray pleasing anticipations were not to be realised, as the sequel will show. Ifc was again dark before 1 was half-way to Scott's, but I “gave my horse his head." That is, let him go how and where he liked, trusting to his equine intelligence to bring me to the accommodation house. I found Scott’s apprehensions to be only too well founded. The animal was sadly deficient in sense. At a certain point ho turned off the beach, I offering no objection, trusting implicitly to his superior geographical knowledge, as the sandhills were all alike to me. After wandering through swamps and over numberless sandhills, my steed pulled up and I found that wo were likely to spend a second night on the beach.

Again and again I turned him to the seashore, guided by the roar of the surf, and gave him repeated opportunities to display any intelligence be might happen to possess.

AU in vain. He was at fault every time, and at length I wearily threw myself out of the saddle, and prepared to make the best of it till daylight, first of all demonstrating my extreme simplicity and inexperience by making a long rope of blades of green flax, by which I fastened my animal as X thought very securely to—-my own wrist.

A more dangerous thing I could scarcely have done, as the result will prove, I was roused from a brief lapse into unconsciousness by the noise of a mob of wild cattle, stampeding furiously towards where I was lying. My horse, terrified by the approach of the herd, snorted in fright, and then galloped in the opposite direction. Fortunately my flax rope was not of great strength, and with a jerk, which I thought would have pulled my wrist out of joint or dislocated my shoulder, the rope snapped, and I was saved from the other alternative of being dragged to death behind my maddened steed. Thankful indeed for the narrow escape which I had experienced, I lay still till dawn. I then arose and made for the top of a high conical-shaped sand-hill, from which I hoped to make out my present bearings. About a couple of miles distant I could see Scott's accommodation house,- and I fancied I could also discern my errant steed close to the stook-yard rails. An increasing commotion around and beneath me here attracted my attention, and I noticed, with no little alarm, that my bovine acquaintances of the previous night had returned, and were displaying unmistakable signs of being averse to my presence there. Very likely many of the cattle may never beforb have seen a human being on foot—with stockmen on horseback they were, of course, not so unfamiliar. However, there they were, I suppose to the number of 60 or 70, now bellowing defiance at me, and throwing up sand and scrub with hoofs and horns. The dilemma was rather an awkward one. I was safe enough while I remained on the summit of the sand-hill, as they were scarcely likely to attack me up there; but how was I to get down and away in safety ? I waited for fully half an hour, to see if they would show any disposition to move on.

Not they. The bellowing increased, and I could plainly see they meant mischief. Then a happy inspiration seized me. And I still laugh to think what a comical figure I moat have out when giving effect to the said inspiration. This is what X did: I was wearing what was known os a bushranger’s felt hat. (I haven’t seen one for years.) When pushed out it would be about twenty inches in height, or it would lie flat on the head like a " billycock." Acting on my inspiration, I rammed my fist into my “bushranger ’’ till it was its full dimensions, and then taking it in both hands, which X placed between my knees, I turned a series of somersaults from the summit of the sandhill, I was pretty agile then, and I performed the feat rather cleverly, I imagined. ' The effect on the cattle was magical. I don’t suppose they ever saw such an extraordinary apparition before. Before X reached the base of the sandhill there was even a greater stampede than on the previous night, when they nearly trampled me under their hoofs. When I stood on my feet not a beast was to be seen, but there was a noise like that of a cyclone roaring through the flax and toi as the terrified herd sought safety in furious flight. There was no time to be lost. They might return, so picking up my saddle (the bridle was on the absent horse), I made a bee-line in the direction of the accommodation house os seen from the top of the sandhill.

But my perils and troubles' were not over yet. I was certainly in luck’s way on that eventful morning.

Out from behind a flax-bush darted a calf, evidently not many hours old, which began to run in front of me. I now became aware that a.heifer, probably its mother, was just behind me, calling to her calf, the latter answering its maternal parent in what was no doubt an appeal for protection against the monster in the shape of a human being trespassing on their domain.

I concluded it was time to go forward, which I did at my best speed, hoping to pass the calf, which kept on right in front of me, with its mother close behind following me up, and now bellowing like an animal demented.

I here dropped my saddle, which act, I am now convinced, saved my life, as the heifer stopped a moment to send it high in the air—l heard the impact on the ground when it fell. I was getting winded, but I spurted bravely along. In a few seconds I heard the heifer again on my tracks, and gave myself np for lost. With tail erect, the playful juvenile in front of me kept on its career, still calling incessantly to its mother. With trembling legs, and heart beating in rapid pulsations, I'noticed the calf taking a flying leap over some obstruction, and the next moment I fell heavily and almost unconscious to the bottom of a shallow natural water-course, which the winter rains or the drainage from the swamps had excavated in the loose formation.

There I lay almost breathless for perhaps 20 minutes, and finally mustered courage to crawl cautiously out and have a careful look all round. Neither heifer nor calf were to be seen, and after having assured myself that the coast was clear, I walked on in fear and trembling till I reached the accommodation house.

Scott had not noticed the return of my horse, and for a moment he appeared to wonder who I was, or where I had come from. I was bareheaded, my “bushranger "having been forgotten when I crawled out of the water-course, in which it had fallen when I so unexpectedly pitched head foremost into it. 1 had no doubt I had a somewhat soared look, and I am sure 2 felt relieved to know I was where wild cattle and frantic heifers' could not further pursue me.

Old Scott laughed long and loud when I had finished the recital of my experiences. "Man," said he “ how you must have scooted, for I ken weel how a young calf can run."

A boy was sent out after my saddle, which he brought back, but not the “bushranger," for which I had to go myself. And so ended my adventure with wild cattle near the mouth of the Eangitikei river away back in 1863. I well remember old Scott’s quaint remark that be always kenned the horse he lent me bad no mnckle intelligence, bat that he believal the rider was very little wiser.

Many a time did the old man tell the tale afterwards, with sundry embellishments of bis own to the great amusement of his hearers, and, to my humiliation, as he dwelt upon the stupidity of the horse that could not make its way home to the place where it was born and bred, and that of the rider who got lost both going and coming.

I don’t mind admitting now, though Scott didn’t know it, that I tried the same routs seven times altogether, and got hopelessly lost and was out all night six oat of the seven.