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

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIV, Issue XX, 19 May 1900, Page 916

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

By

A. B. PATERSON (Banjo).

Author of “The Man From Snowy River.”

CHAPTER XXIL THE SAVING OF CONSIDINE. Next morning at grey dawn all the camp was astir. Hugh looked out from under his mosquito net and saw old Considine sitting over the fire, earnestly superintending the frying of a large hunk of buffalo meat. He looked like a man without a trouble In the world as he turned the hissing steak in the pan. Two black gins, in brief garments —a loin cloth and i villainously d’rty pyjama jacket each, were sitting near him, languidly killing the mosquitos which settled on their bare legs. These were Magge and Lucy, but they had degenerated with the surroundings. Tommy Prince was oiling a carbine, and one of the shooters was washing his face at a basin formed by scratching a hole 'n in the ground and pressing a square of canvas into the depression. The shooter slooshed himself merrily, using plenty of soap, and a. dispir ted dog which came up to drink the water found the soap too much for him, and went away growling after a mouthful. The Chinese skinner was sitting on a log, rubbing a huge butcher’s knife up and down on a sharpening stone. Away up the plain the horses, about 30 or 40 in number, were slowly trooping into camp, hunted by a couple of blackfellows. These men were naked except for little grass armlets worn above the elbow, and sticks stuck through their noses. When the horses reached the camp they formed a shuffling, constantly moving squadron under the shade of some trees, and pushed and shoved and circled about, try’ng to keep the flies off themselves and each other. Hugh walked over to Tommy Prince at his rifle oiling, ami watched him for a while. That worthy, who was evidently si true sportsman at heart, was liberally baptising wth Rangoon oil an old and much rusted Martini 577-bore carbine, whose ejector refused to work. Every now and then, when he thought he had got it ship shape. Tommy would put in a fresh cartridge, and—holding the carbine tightly to his shoulder and shutting his eyes—would fire it into space with a mighty roar. . ,e old rusty weapon kicked fr’ghtfully, and after each discharge the e.,ector jammed, and Tommy ruefully poked the exploded cartridge out with a rod and poured on more oil. “Blast the carbine!” ssiid Tommy. "It kicks upwards like; it’s kiek'n’ my nose all skew whiff.” “Don't put it to your shoulder, yon fool.” ssiid one of the shooters, “it’ll kick your head oft. Hold it out in one hand.” “Then it’ll kick my arm off," said Tommy. “No it won’t; you won’t feel it at all,” said the shooter: “your arm will give to the recoil. Blaze away!” “What are you up io with the carbine?” said Hugh. “I’m goin’ to have a blaze at some of these 'ere buff'loes,” said Tommy ga’ly. “Bill’s lent me a ’orse. They's got a rifle for you and one for the old man. We'll give them buff’loes hell to-day. Five rifles—they'll think the French is after them.”

"Well, but I want to get back,” sai.l Hugh. “We must! t waste any time. What about the storekeeper’s horses?”

“Ho! It’d never do to take them straight back again,” said Tommy. “Never do. They must ’live a spell. Bcs’des. what's the ’urry?”

And Hugh, recognising that for sill the good he had done bv his mission he might just as we’l rot hurry back again, resigned himself to the inevitable, picked up his bridle, and went into the shuffling nerd of horses, and caught the one pointed out for him—si big. raw-boned, ragged hipped bay. si

horse that would have been a gentleman under any other conditions, but from long buffalo hunting bad become a careless going, loose jo'nted ruffian, taking his life in his hand every day. and, like his masters, careless of appearances, and without morals. He bit savagely at Hugh ns

he saddled him, and altogether proclaimed himself devoid of self-respect and all the finer instincts.

Breakfast was despatched almost ’n silence. The shooters knew vaguely that Hugh’s visit was in some way connected with old Considine, and they knew also that Cons’dine had refused to do what Hugh wanted. But the hospitality of the Buffalo camp is the hospitality of the Arabs of o!d—--the stranger within the camp is made welcome whatever be his business, and he may come and go unquestioned. Hugh had little enough uesire to talk on the subject of his visit, and old Considine maintained a dogged silence. Tommy Prince a'one chattere 1 away affably between large mouthfuls of buffalo beef, damper and tea. airing h’s views on all subjects, but principally on the fair sex. Aieanwhile the blacks were catching the pack horses and sharpening their skinning knives. The two horses used by the shooters were brought over to the camp fire and given a small feed each of muchprized maize and oats and bran brought round in the lugger from Port Faraway, with the eamp supplies landed on the river bank twelve miles off, and fetched in on pack horses. “A little more beef. Mister? No? Well, all aboard for the Buffalo Brigade! That’s your rifle by the tree. Put this cartridge belt on and buckle it real tight, ’cos, if you leave it loose, when you start to gallop it will shake up and down and chafe the soul out of you. Come. Paddy Keogh. What are you going to ride?” “I’m going to ride the Boeo” (oneeyed horse). “I wouldn’t if T wr.s von. Tie's all right to race, up to a buffalo, but that blind eye of his’ll fetch him to gr’ef some day. Ride the old grey.” “No fear,” said the old man obstinately, “the Boco’s one eye’s worth any other horse’s two. Me an’ the Boeo will be near the lead when the whips are crackin’ ’m now, take it from me.’ “Come along then.” Hugh clambered on to his raw-boned steed, known as “Close Hp,” because he would go so close to the buffaloes, and the procession started. The five white men rode ahead, all smoking with great enjoyment. Hugh rode beside one of the shooters and opened conference with him. “I’ve heard a lot about this business.” said Hugh, “but never hoped to see it. What are these Australian buffaloes? I thought they were just bumped cattle, like those little Brahmin cattle.”

“People reckon they are the Indian buffalo,” said the bushman. “They were fetched here about fifty years ago from Java—just a few pair, and they were let go and went wild, and now they’re all over the face of the earth about here. We shot six hundred of ’em—just the two rifles—in six months. it’s not play, I tell you, to shoot and skin six hundred beasts and cure their hides In that time. We’ll get 1000 this season.” “Good Lord!” said Hugh. “Won’t they be shot out?”

"Not they. There’s alwmt eight thousand of ’em shot every year for their bides, and it's just like the ordinary increase of a big cattle station. They're all over these plains, and for miles and miles away down the coast, and in these jungles there’s thousands of 'em. There’s jungles here that are 100 mill's round, and no animal but a buffalo will go into ’em The blacks say that inside them there jungles there's big patches of clear plain, with grass and water, where there’s buffaloes as thick as bees; but you can't get at 'em.” “How do you shoot ’em?” said Hugh.

“Race right up alongside ’em, and put the carbine out with one hand and shoot downwards into the loin. That's the only way to drop ’em. You can shoot bullets into ’em by the hatful everywhere else, and they just turn and charge, and while you're dodging round, first you huntin’ the buffalo and then the buffalo huntin’ you, tha rest of the mob are out of sight. You

must go right up alongside, close enough to touch ’em with the barrel, and fire down—so,” illustrating the shot by holding the carbine as he spoke. “And whatever you do don’t pull your horse about. lie knows the game if you don’t. And never stop your horse near a wounded buffalo, either. They make a rush as sudden as lightnin’. They look clumsy and big, but, my oath, a wounded one can hop along something wonderful. They’ll surprise you for pace any but most of all when they’re wounded. “Do they always come at you when they’re wounded?” said Hugh. “Always,” said the shooter, “and very often when they’re not wounded they II turn and charge if you’ve run ’em a long way. You want to look out, I tell you. They’ll wheel very sudden, and if they ketch a horse they’ll grind him into pulp. Ben, my mate here, had a horse killed under him last week, horse we gave five-and-twenty quid for, and that’s a long shot for a buffalo horse. I b’lieve in Tnjla they shoot ’em off elephants, but that’s ’cos they won’t, come out in the open like they do here. There’s hundreds of toffs in England and Injia ’d give their ears for a day after these, you know. Hello! Look! See there!” Lar away, out on the plain, over the unbroken expanse of long waving grass, Hugh saw fifteen or twenty bluish grey mounds rising above the grass. They were ranged in line, and were like the earth before the creation, without form and void. Thev were a herd of buffalo feeding, and as they never lifted their heads thev maintained a curious resemblance of a lot of railway trucks covered with grey tarpaulin. It was impossible to tell which was head and which was tail. All that could he seen were just the bluish mounds, looking like islands in the sea of grass. A short halt was made while girths were tightened, cartridges slipped into place, and hats jammed on, Hugh trembling with excitement. They all mounted and rode slowly towards the herd, which were at least half a mile off, and still feeding steadily. Everyone kept his horse in hand, ready for a dash, the moment the mob lifted their heads.

“How fast will they go?” whispered Hugh to the nearest shooter. “Fast as blazes,” said the shooter. You’ve no idea how fast they are. They’re the biggest take in there is. Now, when they lift their heads they’ll stare for half a minute, and then they'll run The moment they start, off ion go. Hatch ’em. There, one sees us! Keep steady yet. Don’t rush till they start.”

One of the blue mounds lifted up a hug’e black muzzled head decorated with an enormous pair of sickle-shap-ed horns that stretched right back to h's shoulders. He stared at them with great sullen eyes, and trotted a few paces towards them, and one after another the rest lifted their heads and stared too. ('loser the horsemen drew at .their steady, silent jog, the horses pricking their ears and getting on their toes, as racehorses do at the start of a race.

“Be ready,” said the shooter. “Now!” The mob. with one impulse, wheeled and set off at a heavy, lumbering gallop, and the horses at once dashed Into full gallop after them. It was a ride worth a year of a man’s life. Everyman sat down Io his work like a jockey finishing a race, and the. big stock horses went striding through the long grass after the buffaloes like hawks swooping down on a lot. of pigeons. '1 be men carried their carbines ready loaded, holding them straight up over the shoulder, so as to lessen the jerking on the wrist caused by the horse’s gallop. The surface of the plain was level enough, but frightfully bad goin. The sun had ' baked and dried the black soil till great, gaping cracks, a couple of feet wide and ten feet deep, were opened in the ground. The buffaloes had wallowed in the wet season, and made round well-like holes that were now hard, dry pitfalls. Here and there a treacherous. slimy watercourse wound its slinking way along, making o bog in

which a horse would sink to his shoulders. And over all these traps and pitfalls the long waving jungle grass drew a veil, hiding them away, and waving serenely alike over cracked •rround and smooth bog or firm earth, pitfall or level going. Every now and then belts of small bamboo were crossed into which the horses dashed bhndlv’ forcing their way through by thenweight. When they started the buffaloes had a lead of a quarter of a ™ IIe > and judging by their slogging, laboured gallop, it looked as though the horses would run into them in half a mile; but on that ground the buffaloes could go nearly as fast as the horses, and it was only after a mile and a quarter of hard riding that they closed in on the mob, which at once split into several detachments. A magnificent old bull with horns that would measure about ten feet frorn tip to tip dashed away to the right, with about six cows lumbering after him. Hugh and one of the shooters followed this lot. Another mob went away to the left, pursued by the other shooter and old Considine; while one old cow, having had enough running, suddenly wheeled in her tracks and charged straight at Tommy Prince, whose horse at once whipped round and carried his rider into a clump of bamboos with the old cow at his tail. Hugh followed his mate up as hard as he could, both horses feeling the pace, and pecking and blundering every now and again in the broken ground. Once Hugh saw a buffalo wallow suddenly appear right under his horse’s nose and half flinched, expecting a certain fall, but old Closeup strode over it, apparently having a leg to spare for emergencies of the sort. Just ahead of him the shooter, sitting down in his saddle, lifted his horse with a drive of the spurs, and came rigQrt alongside the hindmost animal of the mob, a fat blue cow, which at once swerved at right angles; but the horse followed her every movement, and drew- up, till horse and buffalo were racing side by side. Then, without fuss or hurry, up went the elbow of the rider, and bang! the buffalo fell as if paarlysed, shot through the loins. The horse swung away from the falling animal as it crashed to the ground, and methodicallv the shooter, still going at full gallop, ejected the used cartridge and put in another without losing his place at the tail of the flying mob. The noise of the carbine, made the mob divide, and Hugh found himself going full speed after three that came his way. Wild with excitement, he drove Close-up after the nearest, and made ready to fire at the right moment. The long gallop had winded him; his arm was almost, numbed with the strain of carrying the carbine, which now seemed to weigh a ton. Close-up, true to his name, made a dash at the nearest buffalo, and got close enough in all conscience; but what with the jerking to and fro as the horse galloped, and the rolling gait of the buffalo, and the sudden swerves executed by that animal, and the occasional blunderings of the horse in broken ground. Hugh never seemed to have the carbine pointed right, ami Close-up finding it did not go off when he expected, began to slacken pace and gallop in an undecided way. It sounds an easy enough business to gallop up to an animal which you can liea.t for pace, but anyone who has ever tried to lay a whip on the back of a. bullock knows it is not so easy as it looks to get more than one clip or two home. Hugh found that the buffalo seemed to be holding its own for pace, and every time he drew up it dodged before he could make sure of hitting the loin. The cover seemed to be getting very near. At last he leaned out as far as he could, and, holding the rifle in one hand, took a “speculator” at the flying buffalo. He hit it somewhere, but where, he hadn’t, time to look, for with a snort like a grampus the beast wheeled in its tracks and charged. So sudden was the attack that old Closeup only just dodged it by a. yard or two. and for a While Hugh was the hunted instead of the hunter. It charged him for a eouple of hundred yards and then stopped. Hugh managed to eject the cartridge ami reload, and then cantered after the animal, which was now going at a sullen trot, with the blood pouring from its flank. As he galloped up to administer the coup de grace, meaning to make no mistake almut hitting the lo : n this time, the buffalo suddenly wheeled and chargeil him again, and Close-up executed another hurried retreat. For a. while they had it up and down —first the buffalo'hunted t<he man, then the man the buffalo—while Hugh kept up

a fusilade of bullets at about thirty yards’ range without seeming to discompose the brute at all. At last a lucky shot struck some vital spot inside; the beast stopped, staggered ami fell dead without a sound. Hugh looked round. He was alone, except that his mate was just visible far away over the plain, still following at full speed a blue mound that struggled doggedly on towards the timber. The grey horse drew up to his quarry, the man leant forward, there was a sudden spurt of white smoke and the animal fell as if struck by lightning. It was very pretty to watch, and looked as simple as shelling peas. The shooter rode over to Hugh, and congratulated him on his first kill.

“1 got all that mob that came our way,” he said, "‘seven of 'em. Yours makes eight. There's Ben after some still, and there's Tommy Prince back at the bamboos firing at something. Firing this way, too, damn him! Look at Ben.”

Far away over the long grass, looking like puppets in the distance, went the gliding, swiftly moving figures of a. man ami horse. Tn front of them, some dimly seen objects tore through the green waving grass, and every now and again out went the arm, and there was a spurt of smoke and a commotion in the grass, as another buffalo fell. Soon the procession passed out of slight in the distance. The blacks ami the Chinese were far away behind, gathered in a cluster, skinning the first beast that had lieen killed, while the pack-horses cropped the grass and bit at the flies. Old Mau Considine was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s go back and see what Tommy is up to,” said the shooter. He's a hard case, is Tommy. If there’s any trouble about he’ll be sure to get into it or get somebody else into it. He’ll wing one of us in a minute, the way he’s blazing. What is he firing at?”

Suddenly the festive Tommy was seen to dash hurriedly out of the patch of bamboo with the old original buffalo cow so close to his horse’s tail that it was a moral certainty if the horse stumbled the cow had him. “She'll have ’im!” yelled the shooter. “Good cow! Can’t she steam? Come on and let’s see the fun!” For a while it looked any odds on the cow. But suddenly she slackened pace, wheeled round, and bolted back to tliie bamboos. They found Tommy very excited. He had used about IS cartridges, and had nothing to show for it. “That's the most underhanded cow ever 1 seen!” said Tommy. “She runs into them bamboos and pretends she's going to run clean through to Queensland, and when I go in after her, she wheels round and hunts me for my life. Near had me twice, she did. Every time I fire the old carbine, it jams, and 1 have to get the rod to it. Gimme your rifle, Walter, and I’ll go in and finish her.” "She must have a lead mine in her already,” said the shooter. "Mind she don’t ketch you, Tommy!" Tommy went in, but couldn't find i sign of the old cow. While they were talking- she had slipped along the belt of bamboos, and was then, no doub't lying perdu waiting for a chance to hash somebody, and as no one eared to chance riding on to her in that jungle, she escaped with the honours of war. The other shooter came up, having shot nine, and reported that old Considine hud had a fall; his horse, not being used to the country, had plunged up to his shoulders into a concealed buffalo wallow, anti had turned right over on li'in. Luckily the buffalo he was after was well ahead, and did not turn to charge him, but he was very much shaken. He came up while they were talking, and insisted on going on. They set to work to find till the dead buffaloes, no easy matter in that long grass, and all hands commenced skinning. This job kept them till noonday, when the tierce blazing sunlight compelled a retreat to some trees, where they eamped for their midday meal, hobbling their horses out. After eating, they rested for an hour or two. and then packed the hides on the pack horses, and heav'ly loaded they were, each hide weighing about a hundred weight. Then they started hunting again, riding slowly along, scanning the plain carefully. Crossing a belt of t’mber, they wenall riding together, the blacks and the Chinaman being well up with 'he pack horses, when suddenly the blacks burst out with great excitement: "Buff’lo! Buff’lo!” Sure enough, a huge blue bull, a

regular old patriarch, that had evidently been hunted out of a herd, and was eamping by h inself in the timber, made a rush out of some thick trees, and set off towards a dense jungle, that could be seen half a mile or so away. Hugh and old Considine were nearest to him, and each had his rifle ready. They started after him together, full gallop through the timber. The old man was evidently anxious tc avenge his failure of the morning, ami wished to take Hugh down a peg, for he set a fearful pace through the. trees, grazing one and gliding undei the boughs of another as only a trained bush rider can. Hugh, coming from the mountains, was no duffer in timbered country either, and the two of them went at a merry pace for a while. The bull was puzzled by having two pursuers, and often in swerving from one to the other would hit a tree with his huge horns, and fairly bounce off it. He never attempted to turn, but kept straight on, and they drew on to him almost side by side, riding jealously for the first shot. Not a word was said by either man. The old man had the wrong side ot the buffalo, as he had to put the carbine across to the near side of his horse to fire; but he was an undeniable rider, and laughed grimly as he got first alongside, and. leaning over, prepared to fire. Then a strange thing happened. Before he could fire the buffalo bull tripped on a stump and fell on his knees, causing Consi (line’s horse to shoot almost past him. As the bull rose again, he sprang savagely sideways, and, bringing h's huge head up from benea,. , fairly impaled the horse on his horn. It screamed a terrible scream, and reared over. The old man never lost bis nerve. Almost as he fell he fired down into the buffalo's shoulder, tint the bullet had no effect. Man ami horse were fetched smashing to the ground, the man pinned under the horse's body. The bull hes'tated a second ere hurling himself upon the two of them, an I in that second Hugh Gordon jumped from his horse, rail right up. and

stood over the fallen man, and holding out the rifle like a pistol, placed the muzzle within an inch of the bull’s head and tired. A buffalo’s skull is an inch and a half thick, solid bone, as hard as granite; but a Martini carbine sighted for a thousand yards will pierce it like paper at short range, ’rhe smoke had not cleared away when the huge beast fell to the ground within two feet of his intended victims. Hugh pulled old Considine out from under the horse. The unfortunate beast struggled to h’s feet with blood gushing from a terrible wound under the body, ran 50 yards, and fell dead.

The old man looked round him in silence. “Serves me damn well right.” he said at last. “I ought to have got the other side of the buffalo!” Not another word did he say as he transfered his saddle to one of the bl ack fellow’s horses, that sable chieftain having to walk home. But in the camp that night the old man camo over to Hugh holding a paper in his hand.

“I’ve got something for yer,” he said. “Here, this is the stiffkit of my wedding with Peggy Donohoe. The parson gev us each one. See, here it is, look, the same day that she reckons she married your uncle. The very same day. the same place and the same parson. That ought to do you. oughtn’t it? I’ll come down with you as soon as you like, and give all the evidence you want. I’ll chance how I get on with Peg. I’ll divorce her, or poison her. or get shut of her somehow. But after what you done to-day I’m on (Jordon’s side, I am.”

And off he stalked to bed. while Hugh talked long with Tommy Prince and the buffalo shooters of the best way to get down to the wire and send the news of his success. He went to bed the happiest man south of the line and next day, saying good-bye to his hospitable friends. he started away with Considine and Tommy Prince on on their road to the te.egraph wire, and thence to civilisation. (To be continued.)