*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 speakersomewhat 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 remindsme, 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 theoot-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 Idinna reckon on him, so you needna coont him in. White's going to bringtwa men wi' him. And, m-yes, there's Davison o' the bank, and Dicksonthe lawyer. Told 'em the other day I'd let 'em know. They'll need tobe here the nicht, too. We'd better send Willy in wi' a message atonce. 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 theboys. You know his steer----"
"Ah weel," said Mr. M'Intyre laughingly, "we'll hae 'em. Send word bythe boy."
Accordingly, the invitation was taken to the four Tareelians. Gill andparty turned up about dark, and shortly after them the town lot, all ofwhom were welcomed by their hospitable host.
M'Intyre had made extensive preparations for the hunt. There arevarious methods for trapping wild horses. The one in vogue at Bullaroiand the surrounding stations was that called the "wing" trap. Thisconsists, first of all, in determining the usual brumby run. The nextwork, and an important one, is the building of yards in a localityspecially selected, the object being to get as near as possible to thenatural line of the horses' travel when stampeded.
The yards must be well constructed, with a high, strong fence, having anopen mouth so wide as to give the hunted steed no suspicion of runninginto a trap. The upper and nether lips of this mouth, after runningparallel 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, calicostrips about six inches wide, is made fast to one of the fenceterminals, and from there, at a slight outward angle, is often taken formiles, being secured at intervals to trees or stakes which are driveninto the ground. The wing is fixed breast high. This, to theinexperienced, seems but a flimsy obstacle; but the calico barrier,frail as it appears, acts as an effectual boundary. Brumbies are bothtimid and suspicious, and very rarely charge a wing. When driven on toone they wheel either to right or left, with never a thought of breakingthrough or jumping it.
The strategy of the "drive" is to station men at intervals from theterminal point of the wing; each man is armed with a heavy stock whip, acruel enough weapon in the hands of an adept. Others are left at thetrap-yard mouth on the outward side, concealed as a rule, and ready todart out and head the mob should it scent danger when nearing theopening. The remainder of the men proceed to locate and enflank themob, and drive them in the given direction. This, often, is a verydifficult matter, and sometimes the best laid scheme is defeated by adetermined and irresistible rush of the mob in the teeth of theirassailants.
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 andpass to the outside to strengthen the flank men, who now form a parallelline with the racing brumbies. Thus, with the calico wing on one side,a living, whip-cracking, yelling cordon on the other, and a harryingforce behind, the spectacle is as brilliant and as exciting as Australiacan 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 whencethe amalgamated forces are to proceed to the brumby grounds.
The men and boys are variously mounted. All the horses, however, areused to stock work; some of them, within certain limits, being asintelligent as the men who bestride them. Many of them are what isknown as "camp horses"; that is, horses trained for mustering andcutting out work on the cattle camp. Quick to wheel, to dodge, toout-manoeuvre the charging bullock, and even to divine the enemy'sintention; skilful in wedging through a pack; ready to advancebackwards, so to speak, and to use heels when head and shouldersunavail; 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 theabove-named variety. The price of each was regarded by its rider asbeyond rubies. Both men were strong-boned, grizzled, and expertbushmen, with not a superfluous ounce of flesh on their bodies. Nevillewas of the company. He had learned many things in the intervening days;the first, and most essential, was that England could furnish noprecedent to Australia in things that are peculiar to station life. Hegradually 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 outon the run with him, giving common-sense hints in his dry way, from timeto time, which his guest was ready enough to take. He learned to ridefairly well, and, after many mortifying failures, could crack a stockwhip 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 inanticipation they pass over open plain, through brigalow scrub, alongbox ridges, and across country on a ten-mile spin to a spot on RockyCreek called the Glen--a place already decided upon. As there was noknowing to what extent the powers of both men and horses would be triedduring the day, the journey was made at a moderate speed, so as to sparethem for the arduous task of the drive.
The pals, on this occasion six in number, were compelled to curb theirtendencies to fun and frolic; though there were some very tempting andwell-nigh irresistible inducements to spurts as the game rose or scuddedbefore them. Inviting jumps, too, lured them; but high jump or lowjump, kangaroo or emu, charm they never so wisely, are resisted.
But their tongues are uncurbed. How they did chatter, to be sure! Itdid the older members good to hear their gay and joyous prattle. Theirviews of life in general, and brumby hunting in particular, were noveland unconventional. They settled everything touching the day'sproceedings, from the place of the "find" to the number yarded. Allthat the warrigal might do, and all that they would positively do tocircumvent him, together with many other things, were discussed with theself-confidence of youth.
In due time the Glen is reached, and the Bullaroi p
arty find that theyare first upon the scene.
"Off saddles all o' you. Must ease the horses a' we can. Saundy, youand the boys mak a fire and get the billy going. Denny, bring thetucker-bag from the pack-saddle. Mr. Neville, what in the name ofcommon-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," saidHarry in an undertone, as he passed by the new chum. "Put 'im under ashade tree same as the rest of us."
"Beg pardon, yes--er--I see," answered he, mortified for a moment, as hemoved from the leafless trunk to a clump of currajongs, whose thickfoliage effectually screened the sun's rays.
"Wot sort of a bloke's that 'ere cove?" asked Jimmy Flynn of TomHawkins. "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 hecame here first; my word, he was a greenhorn then!"
"Here's the Captain, father!" sang out Sandy, as three men cantered upthe track.
"Guid-day, White! Guid-day, men! Glad to see you. Off saddle and joinus 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'regoing to do? Stand a good chance, Dickson, of cracking your skull andspilling 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 athame 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 ofgrub 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'yethink 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'trefuse to take some; but, I give you my word, I strolled over to his menas soon as I could get away decently, and got a slice of beef and achunk of damper."
"Hoo's De Little getting on?"
"Well, between you and me and the billy-can, he's no more cut out for asquatter than for an archangel. Pity he ever left London. He'd be moreat 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 smallcattle run, living bachelor fashion. He was now quite old, yet fanciedhimself equal to any toil. To hint at his age infirmities was to raisea 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 toremark. If you, sir, look upon a bit of a brumby hunt as anextraordinary 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'sweakness, "we're all delighted to see you. Just in time for a pannikinof tea and a mouthful. Here you, Dick, Tom, Harry, one of you, take theColonel's horse."
A few minutes later the men filed out of the Glen, and proceeded alongthe 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 whichextended nearly three miles before it broadened out into an open plain,lightly timbered at the upper or ridge side, but perfectly treeless atits other extremity.
Two-thirds of the way up the valley, in a belt of box trees, was thetrap-yard. The trap mouth, before described, extended across the beltto the outermost verge.
After a short inspection of the yard the calico wing was fixed. It wasattached to the terminal post of the yard mouth, nearest to the ridgethat skirted the valley on the top side. From thence it was taken in astraight line on the ridge side of the valley, until the plain wasreached. From this point, inclining slighting outward and made fast atshort intervals, it extended right across the plain, ending in a clumpof 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'Intyreapportioned the men their places. Six, under Gill, were located in theiron-bark clump. Five others were sent back to the trap-yard, two milesdistant, to assigned duty there. The remaining sixteen were to executethe task of first "feeling" the enemy; then of outflanking them; and,finally, directing the stampede.