IN NO MAN’S LAND. (An Australian Story.)

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIV, Issue XIII, 31 March 1900, Page 578

IN NO MAN’S LAND. (An Australian Story.)

By

A. B. PATERSON (Banjo).

Author of “ The Man From Snowy River.”

CHAPTER XV. THE WIIJJ CATTLE. Carew woke next morning to find that it was broad daylight, and the horses had been run in, caught and saddled, and were all ready for a start out on to the run. Breakfast was soon disposed off, and the cavalcade set out. Naturally, the old man had heaps of questions to ask about his inheritance, and he made the Englishman ride alongside him while he questioned him. “If I go to England after this money, Mister.” he said, “I suppose they won’t be handin’ me out ten years for perjury same as they done for Roger Tiehborne, eh ? I won't have no law case, will 1 ?” "Shouldn’t think so. You’ve been advertised for all over the place, I believe.” “Ha"! Well, now they’ve got me they mightn’t like me, don’t you see? 1 never take no stock in them unclaimed money fakes. I never see any money goin’ beggin’ yet, long as I’ve lived but what some chap had his hands on it quick enough. But I s’pose it’s all right. “It’s me wife I’m troublin’ about. I’m no dandy, Gord knows, but if people’ll let me alone I’ll let them alone, and I don't interfere with anyone. But if old Peg turns up she’ll want to be right in the front of the pereession. If she comes after me, I’ll realise everything by public auction, unreserved sale, for spot cash, and I’ll sneak back here to a place I knows of, where there’s no trooper can find me. I ain’t goin’ halves with that woman, I tell you. She wouldn’t stick to me when I was poor, and I ain't goin’ to take her up again now. You had better come back with me. Mister, and show me the way round a bit. Be my sekitary, and if the Prince of Wales comes to call, tell him Mr. Patrick Henry Considine’s just recoverin’ from a fit of the horrors, and can’t see no one. There's a mob of cattle, Gordon,” he went on, changing the subject quickly, “let’s ride up here while the boys bring ’em in to camp. And off they went at a canter to inspect the first mob of cattle, leaving the question of his matrimonial prospects in abeyance for the time being. It must be explained that the ceremony of taking delivery of the station was a matter of some days, as Considine's signature to the deed of transfer was only the first step. This was a long document, prepared in Sydney, and kept them going in literature for about a week, reading the technical clauses ; and they were delighted to find that through the carelessness of a clerk, in one part of the deed there figured “one bull of mixed sexes and various ages”—evidently quite a host in himself. They rode out day after day, through interminable stretches of dull timbered country, or over blazing plains waving with long grass. Every now’ and again they came on mobs of half-wild cattle, all hearing the same brand, a huge RLS, These were not mustered into a yard or counted, except roughly. Gordon was not completing a purchase, but simply taking over what cattle where there—many or few. good or bad. he could only take whnt he found. They rode miles and miles, always in the broiling, blazing heat, camping for a couple of hours in the middle of the day. They saw hundreds and hundreds of cattle, and to the Englishman it seemed always the merest chance that they found the cattle, and an accidental good fortune Hint they found their way home again. At rare intervals, over the vast expanse of country that they travsed. they came upon substantial mustering yards, when* the calves wenbrought for branding. At such yards a rough living hut had been constructed. anil at these they camped at night instead of returning to the head station. They always slept out of doors. In the intense blazing heat of the weather it was no hardship to sleep out, and the huts, ns a rule, fairly jumped with fleas. Sometimes they camped alongside big lagoons, a couple of miles round, on whose surface were

huge pink and blue water lilies and rushes, and vast flights of wild fowl. After the stretches of blazing plain and dull timber these glimpses of water were inexpressibly refreshing-. The Englishman drank water all day long. Every time that they crossed water he filled his water-bag. The heat made the water stand out in perspiration on his skin almost the moment it was swallowed. When they camped out they took provisions and each man’s blankets and mosquito net, on pack-horses, that were driven along by the silent blacks. They passed great stretches of almost impenetrable scrub, tropical jungles and belts of bamboo. In all this cover it was evident that wild cattle abounded, as they heard the bellow of the wild bulls every now and again. Gordon’s instructions had been to get all the cattle mustered as soon as possible. and sold off, but for the present he was just inspecting the cattle, to see where they were running. “There should be a terrible .lot of w’ild cattle here,” said Gordon. “Don’t you ever get any out of the scrubs ?” "Oil, .yes, we moonlight for ’em,” said Considine. “We take coachers out. We have a very fair coaching mob. Some of our coachers are as quick as race horses, and they’ll hustle wild cattle away from the scrub just as if they understood.” “What do you mean by coachers ?” said Carew. “Not cattle that go in carts, eh ? No roads here to go on — what ?” “Carts, no,” said the bushman. ‘The way we get wild cattle hereabouts we take out a mob of quiet cattle, what we call coachers, and let ’em feed in the moonlight alongside of the scrub. And we wait back out o’ the road and watch ’em. And when the wild cattle come out of the scrub, they run over to see the coachers, and we dash up on our horses, and cut ’em off from the scrub, and hustle ’em altogether away from it, out into the open. It's good sport, Mjster. We might try a dash at it, if you like, before we go back ; it’s moonlight now.” “Let’s have a try to-night,” said Gordon. “Are your coachers handy ?” “Yairs. They feed near the house. I’ll send ’em on with the gins tonight.” When they got to the house that evening, Carew was so dead tired from his long ride that he wished the wild cattle expedition at Jericho. But Considine and Gordon were in great form, directing, arguing, and planning the campaign. One of the black boys rode away into the wilderness, and returned driving a big mob of horses, who dashed into the yard at full gallop. The gins and the black boys caught fresh mounts out of these and started away, driving some fifty head of cattle selected out of a mob that made their head quarters within a few miles of the house. Most of these were old stagers, and they strung away in the evening quite tranquilly, while the blacks, always smoking, rode listlessly after. Considine produced two stockwhips, and gave one to Gordon. “No need givin’ you one. Mister,” he said to Carew. “You’d hang yourself with it, most likely. I’ve got a rare good horse for you. Old Smoked Beef. He'd moonlight cattle by himself. 1 believe. You’d better have a pistol, though.’ “What for?’ said Carew, gazing at him as he produced from a box three very heavy navy revolvers and a greasy bag of cartridges. “To shoot any beast that won’t stay with the mob. Some of ’em won’t be stopped. They have to go. Well, if one goes, the rest keep tryin’ to follow, ami no forty men will hold 'em. You just keep your eyes open, ami if a beast will break out in spite of the whips, you shoot him if the blacks tell yer. See?” "Where am I to shoot him?” asked Carew. “Shoot him any place. In the earhole. or the shoulder, or the ribs, or the flnnk. Any place at all. Shoot

him all over if you like. One or two bullets don’t hurt a beast, you know. It wants a lead mine to kill some of ’em.” "Do the blacks shoot?” said Gordon. “No; I don’t never trust no blacks with firearms. There’s too many men been killed through that. I have one boy that knifes well, though. Races alongside and knifes ’em.” This seemed a fairly difficult performance, and while the Englishman was wondering how it would be carried out, they made a start. They rode mile after mile in the yellow moonlight, until they came upon a mob of quiet cattle feeding placidly about, within a quarter of a. mile of the big scrub. They whistled to the blacks, and all rode away together down wind to a spot on the edge of the plain, a considerable distance from the cattle. Here they dismounted hind 'waited, Considine and Gordon talking occasionally in low tones, while the blacks sat holding their horses, absolutely silent. Carew lay down on the long, dry grass, anil gazed away into space across the plain. His horse stood over him, with his head down, apparently sleeping. Far away in the moonlight were vague patches of light and shade where the cattle were feeding. Hours seemed to pass away, and Carew fell almost asleep. » Suddenly a long-drawn bellow, and then the angry challenge of a bull, broke the silence. A mob of wild cattle were evidently coming along the edge of the scrub, and had caught scent of the strange mob feeding out on the plain. Again the bull roared his challenge, and there is no animal on earth with so emphatically war like a note as the wild bull when ad vancing to meet a strange mob. The quiet cattle answered back with plaintive, long-drawn lowings. and the din became general as the two mobs met. “Let ’em get well mixed up.” said Considine quietly, tightening his girths and swinging into his saddle, an example that everyone else followed. Carew was shaking with excitement. Some angry bellowings now arose from the cattie. which were apparently horning one another—such being their manner of greeting. Considine said, “There’s a big lot there. Hope to blazes we can hold ’em. Are you ready, Mister?" “Yes, I’m ready,” said Carew. “Come on, then. We’ll sneak up slowly at first, but once I start galloping let your horse go as fast as he likes, and trust him altogether. Don’t pull at him at all, or he’ll break your neck.” They started slowly in Indian file, keeping- well in the shadow of the scrub. The horses picked their way through the outlying saplings and bushes, until suddenly Considine bent forward on his horse’s neck and said. “Come on!” and with one bound every animal set off at full speed. What a ride that was! The inexperienced rider is apt to imagine that because a plain is level it is also smooth, but no greater fallacv exists. The surface of a plain is always bad galloping, as the ground is washed away by the rain from between the tussocks of grass roots, which stand up stiff and rigid in miniature mountains for the horses to trip over; the heat cracks the ground till it opens in crevices sometimes a foot wide and a yard or two deep; the wind blows down small saplings, which lie hidden in the shadows to trip a horse, while the stumps stand up to cripple him: and over all is the cover of long grass hiding all perils and making

the horse risk his own neck and his master’s at every stride. They flew along in the moonlight, Considine leading, Gordon next, then the two black boys, and then Carew with a black gin on each side of him, racing in grim silence. The horses blundered and “pecked” and almost fell, but picked themselves up again, always seeming to have a leg to spare. Now and again a stump or a gaping crack in the ground would flash into view under the very nose of the horses, but they cleared all these obstacles with marvellous activity. In less time than it takes to write, they were between the mob and the scrub ; and at once a fusillade of whips rang out. and the men started, in Indian file, to ride round the cattle. The wild ones were well mixed up with the tame mob. and hardly knew which way to turn. Carew, cantering round with the others, caught glimpses of the wild ones rushing- hither and thither among the mob. small wiry cattle for the most part, with big ears and sharp spear pointed horns. There were 50 or 60 wild ones, as far as Considine could judge, being three or four bulls, a lot of cows and calves and half grown animals, anil a. few old bullocks that had left the station mobs and thrown in their lot with the wild ones. By degrees, as the horses went round them, the cattle began to “ring,’’ i.e., formed themselves into a compact mob. those on the outside running round and round in a circle. All the tune the whips were going, and the shrill eries of the blacks rang out. •‘Wo back! Wo baek there! Wo,” as an animal attempted to break from the mob. They were gradually forcing the whole mob away .from the scrub, when suddenly, in spite of the shrill cries of the blaek gins, some of the leading cattle broke out of the mob and set off up the plain ; at onee the whole mob. with the rush of a cavalry charge, weie after them, racing at full speed parallel with the edge of the scrub, and always trying to make oier towards it. Old Considine met this new development with Napoleonic quickness. He and the others formed a line parallel with the course of the eattle. and raced along between the mob and the timber, keeping up an incessant fusillade with their whips, and the old man’s voice rang out loudly in the direction of the blacks behind. “Keep the coachers with ’em! Flog ’em along ! Cut the hides off em.” In the first rush the quiet eattle had dropped to the rear of the mob, but the blacks set about them with the whips, and, being experienced coachers, they had been flogged and hustled along in similar rushes so often that they knew at once what was wanted, nnd settled down to race just as fast as the wild ones. As the swaying, bellowing, rushing mass swept along- in the moonlight, crashing and trampling through the light outlying timber, some of the coaehers were seen working their way to the lead, and the w-ild eattle, having no settled plan, followed them blindly. Considine, on his black horse, was close up by the wing of the mob, and the Others all rode in line behind him, keeping a line of riders between the eattle and the scrub. “ Crack your whips!” he yelled. " ( rack your whips ! Keep ’em off rhe scrub ! Go on. Billy, drive that horse along and get to the lead !” Like a flash one of the black bo vs darted out of the line, galloped to the head of the eattle, and rode there, pursued by the flying mob, the cracking of bis heavy stock whip sounding above the roar of the hoofs and the bellowing of the eattle. Soon thev steadied a little, and gradually sobered down till they stopped altogether, and commenced ringing again. “ That was prettj- pure, eh. Mister ?” roared Considine to Carew. “ Ain’t it a caution the way the coachers race with ’em ? That old bald

faced coacher is worth two men and a boy in a dash like this.” Suddenly an old bull, the patriarch of the wild herd, came out and made towards one of the {fins, whose shrill yells and whip cracking failed to turn him. Considine dashed to her assistance, and rode at the bull, swinging his whip round his head. “ Wo back there ! Wo back, will you !” he shouted. The bull paused irresolute a second, and in fact half turned to go back to the mob, but a sight or scent of his native scrub decided him, and he dropped his head, and charged straight at Considine. So sudden was the attack that the stock horse had barely time to spring aside, but quick as the attack was, Considine’s revolver was quicker. As the bull passed, bang ! went the revolver. and bang, bang, bang again, as the horse raced alongside the bull, Considine leaning over and firing into the ribs at very short range. The other cattle, dazed by the firing, did not attempt to follow, and the bull, at the fourth shot, stopped his rush and wheeled to charge. He stood a moment in the moonlight, bold and defiant, then staggered a little and looked round in a dazed way as though to say, “ What have you done to me ?” Bang went the revolver again ! the animal gave a lurch forward, sank on his knees, then fell over on his side, dead. “ There you swab,” said the old man. “ That’ll learn you to break hack another time.” Then he came back to the mob, and once more took his place in, the patrol round the cattle. They circled and eddied and pushed, always staring angrily at the riders. Suddenly a big red bullock gave a snort of defiance, and came out of the mob straight towards Carew. He stopped once, and shook his head ominously and came on again. One of the gins who was riding close to him, dashed up with the whip, but the bullock had evidently decided to go on and take all chances, and he advanced on his foes at a trot. “ Choot him, that feller !” screamed the gin to Carew. “ You choot him ! He bin yan away ! No more stop ! Choot him I” Carew, under the dusky charmer’s advice, pulled out his revolver, and tried to pull his horse to a standstill, but the wary old veteran knew better than to be caught standing by a charging bullock, and just as Carew fired, he plunged forward, with the result that the bullet went over the mob altogether, and very nearly winged Charlie Gordon, who was riding on the far side. Then the bullock charged in earnest, and Carew’s horse, seeing that if he wished to save human life, he must take matters into his own hands, made a bolt for it with the bullock after, him. Carew half turned in the saddle, and fired two more bullets at random, W’ith a lightness and freedom that made the black boys on the far side of the mob cower down on their horse’s necks. Then the horse took absolute charge, and made off for the scrub with the bulock after him, and every animal in the mob after the bullock. Nothing in the world could have stopped that charge. Considine and Gordon raced in front of the flying mob, alongside Carew, cracking their whips and shouting; the blacks flogged the coachers up with the wild cattle ; but they held on their way, and with a mighty crash plunged into the thick timber and were lost. For no horseman could ride a hundred yards in that timber at night. Coachers and all went together, and the disconsolate and dispirited hunters gathered at the edge of the scrub, and looked at each other. “ Well. Mister, you couldn’t stop him,” said the old man. “I’m afraid I made — rather a mess of things, don’t you know,” said the Englishman. “ I thought I hit him the second time, too. Seemed to be straight at him.” “ I think you done very well to miss ns ! I heard one bullet whizz past me like a scorpyun. Well, it can’t be bellied. Those old coachers will all battle their way home again before long. Gordon, I vote we go home. They’re your catle now, you know, and you’ll have to come out again after 'em some day and do a little more shootin’. Get a. suit of Ned Kelly armour on you first, though.” As they jogged home through the bright moonlight they heard loud, happy laughter from the group of blacks, and looking back, Carew found that the fat gin was giving a dramatic, and at the same time, comic rehearsal of his exploits with the bullock and the revolver. She dashed her horse along at a great pace, fell on his neck, clutched wildly at the

reins, then suddenly turned in her saddle, and pretended to fire point blank at the other blacks, who all dodged the bullet. Then she fell on the horse’s neck again, and so on ad lib. This made the Englishman very morose, and he was quite glad when Gordon said he had seen enough of the cattle, and they would all start next day for civilisation —Gordon to resume the management of his uncle’s station, Carew to go with him as colonial experiencer, and Old Man Considine to start for England to look after his inheritance. (To be Continued.)