WILD JUSTICE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2649, 21 December 1904, Page 77

WILD JUSTICE.

By F. DA. 0. De L'lslb.

(For the Witness.)

Revenge is a kind f wild justice. In the early days the blacks about the Gregory River in Northern Australia were very treacherous and troublesome, and many a bullet has found a billet in the hide of some devilish black as a punishment for murder.

From Thursday Island to Burketown, from Burketown along the Gregory River, past Floraville, I wandered some 20 years ago. My mate, Jack Brodlie, spoke with rapture of the untold charms, the unexplored glories of the Gulf Country,—,- .1* was "broke," so away we went to, Northern. Australia. My heart longer 1 for a little of what is to be seen when once ' outside the frigid bonds of conventionality. . So we went to the limitless loneliness of Moonlight, on the great, dry plains, jad^-the. innumerable ghost -like voioes that broke from lake and busb at the crack of a cartridge, or the incautious splash and silver gleam of a badly-feathered oar. Tooth and nail we've fought together, calm and cool, in tha mollow moonlight, while ici&oned arrows and barbed spear-shafts rained around" us. After the outrage by the blacks on the white settlers on Bull's Downs station, we got the name of the Avengers, and to this day Gregory River men remember us.

The police were a long way off. Everything civilised was a long way off from the scene of the Bull's Downs tragedy. The spears quivered one night, and the fiery cross of the white men went around the next day. Then followed the ;hase, and the slaughterous sunrise, in- which blackfellow and "gin" were bowled over like dingoes, and the "pics" knocked on the head, if not of sufficient value to be taken away. Barbarous? No, the rich man kills the pauper as surely. Listen, and judge for yourself. Civilisation mly imperfectly glosses over man's inhumanity. .The inexorable law of ihe survival of the fittest is the law in the wilderness. Jim and I were after buffalo. We crossed the endless nlains from Hell's Gate to Hell's Hole on those shasgv Timor ponies. . Twelve hands high, and strong enough to carry a house. One night we came on a party of carriers. The moonlight flooded everything ; the continent seemed in an actual luminous bath. And we came riding with our shadows towards a large fire, red as blood, that cast a dancing reflection into the entrance of a snow-white tent. Striped blankets and 'possum rugs were lying in the tent door ; the big, giant hounds got up with a growl, and were sent back with a few hearty curses. Three men were there, strapping fellows all, just about as perfect in simple goodiheartedness and honest independence as men could be. One was a musicaT genius. He had fashioned a banjo for himself out of crude material, and he sang in a deep, brave baritone voice Df "The old folks at home." God! what a man he looked then, with the moonlight striking his upturned face. Straight as an arrow, brown as a berry, white teeth gleaming through his black beard, and c3 r es tliat laughed as he sang. His bare arms ! The muscles stood out. You would almost expect the sinews to ring like barp-strings, if struck. We left them next morning. The following night they were butchered) for plunder. We found them on our return, stark and stiff, their eyes picked out by. the bites, their libs cleaned by dingoes. By his side lay the battered banjo of the staiwarfc singer of two days ago. His^musio had heralded him to other worldis. We had no difficulty in tracking the blacks. Seventeen to my Winchester, with a miss ; Jim bagged 14. Only a dog got away, and we would have hadr him but for a deep wombat hole.

Then about Macleod. Old Mac had had a bad time. down south, so he brought his two bonnie, winsome daughters up to Bull's Downs extension, to save expense, and keep him company. He thought they were safe enough, and we, like fools, just lured him on. They brought a piano up too. They could play, sing, and dance, and we fellows used to ride 100 miles, in and out, in order to pass a Sunday with ihem. This went on for a imonth or two ; then old Mac rowed with his hands, sacked three of them, put three flocks into one, and swore he would shepherd them himself. We told him it Tra» not §afe ifl

leave the girls all day with nobody but their young brother Jim. Jim was only 10. and not altogether bred in the bush. Mac laughed. He said the girls ould |. shoot ; he had no fear of blacks. He ? could not see the end.. So it went en until one Wednesday, when we were campting 40 miles from Mac's station. Just before sundown, who should come staggering along on a dead-beat hack but little Jim Macleod. He could no' speak for about. 10 minutes, and then gasped out what it was. He had dodged into the scrub and seen it, then got a horse and rode for his life.

We were not long in saddling up. I suppose we did the 40 miles in a goodi bit under three hours. You see, Jim and I had been engaged to the girls for some time. We both loved passionately, so you may guess how we felt. It was bright moonlight when -w e got there ; the homestead ruins were smouldering, and scared sheep were bleating in every patch of scrub. It took us 20 minutes to find the bodies, of the two girld. One Avas d-ead ; the o.ther told us her story before she died in my arms. We carried them both into an outhouse that had) escaped the fire, covered them over with green boughs, and Jim and I clasped hands over their bodies and swore vengeance.

The tribe of Bulla-Bulla, oi diabolical devil, had come up in numbers, and had speared the old man during the drowsy heat of the day, while he was shepherding. Then they crept up to the house, lured the girls out by some dievilish trick or other, outraged them, and hacked them to pieces.

We got pack-horses, loaded up for a long tramp, and into the west across the bush wo went on the track of Bnlla-Bulla. I was heart-broken, so was Jim. I don't say much of love affairs, but I feel them just the same.

We tracked them for 11 days, and camped by the Wild Geese Pools at Tumburra on the twelfth evening. It was about an hour after dark, when I saw something outside our tent. Jim nlso saw it, and thinking it was a 'possum after the sugar bag, rushed out like a shot, hoping to save it. He had heard a rattle among the dilshes, and he thought that by singing out he would drive the 'possum away. I heard him cursing and swearing in a fine, free style, when there siiddenly came a thud, whack, whack ! a yell, and a rush of feet towards the tent. I knew what had happened then, got ■ inside afc a bound,- and put out the lamp while they were 20 yards- off. I got six shots into them before they stopped and broke for .the bush; then, as they bolted through the scrub, I gave them" all that remained *in two repeaters. Loaded again, put the guns ready, and, with a Colt in each hand, started to crawl stealthily towards Jim.

I crossed five dead carrion, reeking with 'possum oil, and then heard Jim's voice as he was crawling along on his stomach. I helped him along as well as I could, got into the tent, lit the slush lamp, and had a look at his head. - It was not badly smashed after all, for he had a devil of a thick skull. We knew, however, it was not all over, so got ready everything that; woiild hold a bullet, doused the light, crawled outside, and planted near the tent. Soon ,we saw a glimmei of fire in "the scrub, and the next- minute something like a rocket came through the air. We letdrive, and they went back again. The rocket was a spear tipped . with burning bark, intended to fire the tent. Luckily it did not catch on, though they tried tho same game three times over, and we let them have full half our battery each time. Then daylight broke. At that we stood out and picked them off, Bisley fashion. I got my last one, who happened to be that devil Bulla Bulla himself, a x over 1000 yards. I knew him by his top-knot, and revenge guided the trigger that crashed a Winchester into the base f his black -skull. It. was a queer experience! Ever found out? No. Though the fights witb the Gulf tribes have been put down to the Avengers, they have never aecus* us of deliberate murder. Why didi I curse that black boy? Confound him! I hate them all. There's Jim. -I'm off. So long!

— The sea encroachments on the Welsh Aoast are menacing the London and NorthWestern railway near Holyvvell. So much

I is this the case that the railway company • has over 400 hands engaged in taking meai sures U) pvra jtb* ling from iUsagtej^