The Land of the Kangaroo Part 16

"To go into the cattle business, one ought to have a capital of not less than fifty thousand dollars, and he could use one hundred thousand to advantage. His first step is to secure a tract of land, and this he does by getting a grant from the government allowing him to occupy an area of ground several miles square at a rental of ten or twenty shillings annually for each square mile. His next step is to secure location, and to do this he travels a great deal through the interior, visiting ground that has not been taken up, and exercising his judgment as to the choice of ground. He must take care to find a place where there is good gra.s.s and good water; he wants a certain amount of timber on his land, but not too much, and the water holes must be at suitable distances apart. Many a man has come to grief in the cattle business owing to his bad selection of a location.

"A man who takes a large area of ground in this way is called a 'squatter.' You can put this down in your notebooks, young men, that a squatter in Australia is just the reverse of the same individual in America. In your country, the squatter is a man who lives upon a small tract of land which he cultivates himself, while here he is a man, as I said before, who takes a large area of ground for pastoral purposes. The equivalent of the American squatter is here called a 'selector,' and between the selectors and the squatters there is a perpetual warfare, as the selector is allowed by law to select a location for a farm on any government land, whether occupied by a squatter or not. The selectors give the squatters a great deal of trouble, and many of us think that the colonial governments have treated us very badly.

"Well, after getting our ground we proceed to stock it, and with fifty thousand dollars we can buy about twenty-five hundred head of cattle.

Then we put up our buildings, employ our stockmen, and set to work. If we have good luck we can pay our expenses, almost from the beginning, by sending fat cattle to market. For the first five years we sell only fat cattle; at the end of that time we have doubled our original stock, and then we begin to sell ordinary cattle as well as fat ones. From that time on, if no mishap befalls us, we can sell twelve or fifteen thousand dollars' worth of cattle every year, including all kinds. At this rate the profits are satisfactory, and in fifteen or twenty years, a man who has started out with fifty thousand dollars can retire on eight or ten times that amount."

Harry asked what were the drawbacks to the cattle business; that is, what were the kinds of bad luck that could happen to a man who engaged in it.

"As to that," replied Mr. Syme, "there are several things which it is not possible to foresee or prevent. In the first place, n.o.body can foresee a great drought when cattle perish of thirst and starvation; added to this danger is that of diseases to which cattle are subject, especially pleuro-pneumonia. Whole herds may be carried away by this disease, and if it once gets established among the cattle of an estate it is very difficult to eradicate it. Sometimes it is necessary to kill off an entire herd in order to get rid of the disease, and I have heard of cattle runs that were depopulated successively two or three times by pleuro-pneumonia, and their owners ruined. Sometimes the market is very low in consequence of an over-supply, and the price cattle furnish is a very poor remuneration to stock raisers.

"Sheep farming is more profitable, on the whole, than cattle farming,"

he continued; "but the risks are somewhat greater in consequence of the greater liability of sheep to disease. There are several diseases peculiar to sheep which carry them off in great numbers, and they are affected by drought quite as much as cattle are. A sheep run can be started with a small capital, and you might almost say with no capital at all. For instance, a man with very little money, or practically with none at all, can find a location and squat upon it, and then go to one of the cities, and if he is known to be a respectable, honest, and industrious man and free from vicious habits, he can find somebody who will supply the capital for buying a few hundred sheep. With these sheep he can make a start, and if he is industrious and attentive to business, and has no bad luck with his flocks, he will make money rapidly. In ten years he will have a comfortable fortune; but, on the other hand, he is liable at any time to be ruined by two successive bad seasons of drought and disease. Sometimes the price of wool is so low that it leaves very little profit to the sheep farmer after paying for shepherds, shearers, and other employees, and the expense of taking his wool to the sea-coast."

Their host remarked, in conclusion, that he was afraid the good days of cattle and sheep farming had gone and would never come again. "Land has become dear," he said, "and labor unions compel us to pay high prices for stockmen and shearers, especially the latter, and the prices of wool are not as good as they used to be. The wool market of the world is low, and so is the cattle market. Since the practise of freezing beef and mutton and carrying the frozen meat to England has come into vogue the prices of meat have improved, but the supply is so abundant and the sources of it so numerous that we have not been greatly benefited by the new process. There still remains enough in either business to encourage those who are in it to continue, but the inducements for new enterprises of this kind are not great."

Some of the stories that were told about experience on cattle and sheep runs were so interesting to our young friends that they made note of them. One of the party told of the dangers surrounding the life of the stock-riders, the men who look after the herds on a cattle estate.

"He has some hard duties to perform," said the narrator. "He gets his breakfast early in the morning and starts out at once, mounted on horseback, and with a horse that is more or less unruly. Each stock-rider, or stockman, as we call him, has a particular part of the run a.s.signed to him, and every morning he goes along the boundary of it, and if his own cattle have strayed across the line, he drives them back again; likewise, if he finds his neighbor's cattle have strayed into his territory, he drives them out. He is expected to show himself to his cattle at least once a day, to accustom them to the sight of men, and also to train them to go where they are wanted whenever he cracks his whip and rides in among them.

"The group of cattle belonging to each stockman is called a 'herd,' and he is expected to train them so that they will recognize his authority.

A bunch of fifty or so is called a 'mob,' and it takes several mobs to make up a herd. All over the run, at intervals of two or three miles, are places where the cattle a.s.semble when they hear the stockman's whip.

These places are called 'cattle camps'; they are open s.p.a.ces of level ground and are always near water; in fact, many of them are used as regular watering places for the mobs and herds of cattle. Occasionally the animals are driven into these camps, either for the purpose of branding the calves or selecting cattle to be sent to market. You will have an opportunity of seeing one of these to-morrow, as a man arrived here to-night who is buying cattle to take to Melbourne.

"Well, the stock-rider is on horseback for the greater part of the day.

Sometimes he takes his dinner with him and sometimes he comes back to the station to get it, and in the afternoon goes to a different part of his section. Sometimes he does not come back at all, and the next morning a search is made for him. Of course there is now and then a man who runs away and leaves his employment, but this is rarely the case, as there is no occasion for him doing so unless he has committed some offense."

The youths listened in breathless silence, waiting for what would come next.

"There really ought to be two men riding together at all times, so that if a mishap occurs to one of them, the other can help him out of his trouble, and, if unable to do so, can go for a.s.sistance; and we generally send out a black boy on horseback with each stockman. A few months ago one of our stockmen, who had gone out alone, failed to come home at night, and we were at once apprehensive that something had happened to him. His horse came back along about midnight, and the next morning several of us started out to find him. We tried to make use of the intelligence of the horse to guide us to the place where he had left his master, but, unfortunately, it was an animal that he had ridden only a few times and there was no attachment whatever between man and beast.

We rode along the boundary where we knew he was accustomed to go, but did not find him. We spread out over all the ground we could cover and shouted continually, in the hope that he would hear us and answer. We made a complete circuit of the portion of the run in his charge, and, finding no traces of him, we struck off haphazard across the middle of it. We kept up our shouting and finally heard a faint answer.

"Then we rode in the direction of the sound, and in fifteen or twenty minutes we reached the man's side. It seems that his horse had stumbled over a fallen log so violently as to pitch the rider over his head. In falling, the man had the misfortune to break his leg. The horse stood and looked at him a few minutes while he tried to call the animal to his side, but to no purpose. The beast threw his head and then his heels into the air and trotted off. He was soon out of sight in the bush and the stockman was left alone, disabled in the way I tell you.

"There was no water in this vicinity and he had no food with him, and he could not walk or stand on account of his broken leg. He could crawl slowly, but only a short distance at a time. He knew that he was out of the regular track of riders, and it might be days or weeks before he would be discovered. He suffered great pain in his injured limb, and very soon the tortures of thirst began, to be followed later in the day by those of hunger.

"All the rest of the day and all through the night he lay there in great suffering and wondering if relief would ever come. Along towards morning he heard a rustling in the gra.s.s near him, and then other similar sounds, which he soon concluded were caused by snakes. When daylight came he found that his fears and horrors were realized. Moving around him were several serpents, and they manifested a tendency to approach nearer and nearer. Some of them went away as the sun rose and the full light of day shone upon him, but others remained in his immediate neighborhood. He beat the ground with the b.u.t.t of his whip in the hope of scaring them away; his effort was partially successful but not wholly so. One large snake came close to his side and actually traversed his body. He dared not make a motion, for fear the serpent would turn upon him and inflict a fatal bite. He lay there as still as a block of marble till the snake, having satisfied his curiosity, glided away into the gra.s.s.

"All through the afternoon and until we found him, the reptiles remained there. They seemed to understand that the man was disabled, and evidently they were determined to take their own time in enjoying his sufferings. This was the state of affairs when we found him. He said that when he heard our call he almost feared to reply, lest it should rouse his unpleasant neighbors and cause them to take the aggressive.

"We killed two of the snakes not a dozen yards from where the man was lying, and if we had made a vigorous search, it is probable that we could have despatched more of them. We brought the man to the house as quickly as possible, improvising a rude sort of litter, which was carried, with the man upon it, by two of our blacks. Two of us relieved them occasionally, when they were wearied of carrying the burden. In a short time the man was well again, but he said that the horrors of that night were too much for him, and he would seek some other occupation than that of stock-rider. He left us as soon as he recovered, and I don't know what became of him."

"That reminds me," said another of the party, "of the case of a man who met with a similar accident, being thrown from his horse and getting a broken leg. The place where he fell happened to be near a large ant hill, and in a few moments he was covered with the terrible black ants that we have here in Australia. He was horribly bitten by them all over his body, but princ.i.p.ally on head and hands, the other parts being somewhat protected by his clothing. After two or three hours of torture he managed to crawl away from his awful position, but for several hours afterwards the ants continued their attacks; and when he was found by one of his fellow-stockmen, his face was so swollen that he could not see, and he was barely able to articulate. Face and hands became a ma.s.s of sores, and it was weeks before he recovered. When he got well, his face was pitted like that of the victim of an attack of smallpox, and he suffered for a long time with a partial paralysis of his limbs. I have heard of one or two other instances of the same sort, and can hardly imagine anything more terrible."

CHAPTER XIV.

LOST IN THE BUSH--AUSTRALIAN HORSES.

"Another of the gentlemen," wrote Harry in his notebook, "told us a story about a young woman, with a child in her arms and an older child at her side, being lost in the bush." She had been on a visit to an acquaintance who lived about four miles away, and was to start for home in the afternoon of a certain Friday, having gone there in the forenoon of the same day. She did not reach home in the evening, and it was thought at first that she had concluded to remain until Sat.u.r.day. Not until Sunday did her husband go to the house where she had been visiting, and there he ascertained that she had left the place on Friday afternoon, as agreed, and carried no provisions except a pound of b.u.t.ter which she was taking home for her husband.

"It was at once concluded," said the gentleman, "that she had missed her way and been lost in the bush; and when one is thus lost, it is very hard to find the way out again. The general features of the landscape are so similar that it is very difficult to distinguish one part from another, and the alarm and perplexity natural on finding oneself in such a situation increases the danger which attends it by robbing the wanderer of the presence of mind which is so necessary in such an emergency. When the sun is obscured by clouds the most experienced traveler is liable to stray and become lost, and even when the sun is shining it is not every one who can take advantage of its position to guide him out of trouble. The course of the streams in a well-watered country is of great use in guiding an inexperienced traveler, but Australian streams, like most others, wind about a great deal, and make the road along their banks a very long one.

"It was the rainy season of the year when this woman was lost, and the streams were flooded. If she had followed the creek which would have led her to her home, she would have been compelled to keep to the high ground on either side of its valley, as the low, flat land was covered with water. The weather was cold and wet and the winds were keen and piercing. There was not the least supply of nourishment to be obtained in the bush, and when we heard late on Monday what had happened, we all felt that the unhappy wanderers must have perished from hunger and cold.

Still, there was a possibility that they might yet survive, and, as it was too late for us to start that day, we determined to set out on Tuesday morning in search of them. We sent off to the nearest police station and obtained the a.s.sistance of several blacks who had been trained to the police service. You have probably heard about the wonderful skill of these people in following a track, and as soon as they arrived on the ground we set them at work.

"All day Tuesday these native trackers sought diligently to find traces of the missing ones, but none could be discovered. Then on Wednesday morning we renewed the search, covering as much ground as possible and examining it with the greatest care, occasionally discharging a revolver in the hope that its sound might be heard, and frequently shouting the Australian 'coo-ee,' which can be heard at a great distance. We returned home completely discouraged and gave up the wanderers for dead, being satisfied that any further search would be useless.

"But on reaching home we heard news that gave us encouragement. A woodchopper returning from his work told us that he found on a hill, some distance away, a rude mia-mia or wind shelter made of the branches of a wild cherry tree. He said it was not like those usually put up by the blacks, nor were there any traces of fire near it, which would certainly have been the case if it had been a native mia-mia. We started at once, under the guidance of the workman, to inspect the place for ourselves, and on examining the shelter carefully we felt sure that it had been put up by the lost woman. A few pieces of a Melbourne newspaper were lying on the ground and a strip of calico had been fastened to the bushes, evidently in the hope of attracting attention.

"We collected these little articles carefully and took them to the husband, who instantly identified the strip of calico as belonging to a gown his wife had worn, and he also remembered that she had taken a Melbourne newspaper with her. He was greatly excited at the sight of the articles, and so were we. It was too late to do anything that day; in fact, it was dark before we reached home, and so we made all preparations for an early start on Thursday morning. We were on the way soon after daylight, and the native trackers expressed the fullest confidence in their ability to find the missing wanderers, now that they were able to start on the track.

"We first went to the mia-mia, or wind shelter, and then took a course to the northeast, walking over a succession of low ranges and shallow gullies where the water often reached up to our knees. The trackers were much disappointed, as the amount of water which spread over the country made it impossible for them to follow the trail. We pa.s.sed through thick scrubs and p.r.i.c.kly plants, and over sharp rocks which were rough walking even for men; what must they have been for the woman and her children?

"We continued our search for several hours, and had almost resolved to give it up, when one of our party fired at a kangaroo which he had disturbed, and which fled before us. The animal fell wounded, and as we were advancing towards it, we thought we heard a distant coo-ee. We stood still to listen, and faintly, yet quite distinctly, it was repeated. We walked on with great eagerness in the direction whence the sound appeared to come, and every little while we coo-eed and waited for an answer to a.s.sure us that we were on the right track. We did not get an answer every time, and when we did it was not a strong one; but there was no mistaking the sound, and we realized each time that we were getting nearer the spot where it was made.

"We reached the edge of a gully thickly overgrown with tangled scrub about twelve feet high. We pressed forward through this scrub, wading occasionally through the water, and pushing aside the last bushes, found ourselves at the edge of a small open plain. There we saw, standing at a little distance, a gaunt, ragged woman with a child in her arms. As she caught sight of us she turned and fled; either she mistook us for black fellows, or the surprise and relief of obtaining help had turned her brain. We shouted loudly to her to stop, and as our voices fell on her ear she stood still and we approached. She looked at us with a half-crazed expression in her eager, gleaming eyes; her cheeks were thin and sunken, and her whole appearance was one of great wretchedness.

"We gave her some tea which she drank greedily, and it revived her somewhat. Seeing that she had only one of her children with her, the youngest, we asked where the other was, and she led us to a large, hollow tree in which she placed the little girl. The poor child's feet were so cruelly cut and blistered that she could no longer walk, and the mother, hoping to reach home and find help, had thought best to leave her and travel on with the other child. She had built up the opening of the tree with logs and brush-wood in the hope of protecting the child against the attacks of the wild dogs, but when her preparations were complete the little girl wept so piteously that the distracted mother could not consent to leave her alone. So she made up her mind to stay there and die with her children.

"Just as she had reached this conclusion she heard the report of the rifle, and with all her remaining strength she uttered the coo-ee which brought relief to her. She did not faint or lose her self-possession, and she astonished us all by her strength. She would not wait to allow us to send for a dray or other conveyance, but insisted that she could walk with us; it was a walk of seven miles, but she went on bravely, carrying her boy, who would not leave her arms. The men by turns carried the little girl, and offered to take the boy, but she would not give him up.

"She solemnly declared that neither she nor the children had found anything to eat during the time they were in the bush. On the first night, she divided the pound of b.u.t.ter between the children, and ate nothing herself. Her only sustenance for the whole time had been water, and it was the only sustenance of the children after the b.u.t.ter was consumed. Every morning they had begun to wander, hoping to reach home before night; and every night, as the darkness closed in, they huddled together, cold, and hungry, and footsore, on the wet ground, and with no shelter except a few scanty bushes.

"The children slept fairly well, but the mother said she listened through the greater part of every night, hearing the howling of the wild dogs around them, and constantly dreading their attacks. She said she heard the report of our rifles on the first day of our search, but unhappily the wind was blowing directly from us towards her, and consequently we were unable to hear her answering calls, though she had strained her voice to the utmost to make herself heard. She had been almost frantic with despair, knowing that help was so near at hand and yet beyond her reach. She thought, and we agreed with her, that another day in the bush would have ended their lives, or at any rate that of the little girl."

As the narrator paused, Harry asked if the woman recovered her health and strength completely.

"She recovered her strength very soon," was the reply, "but her mind was affected by her exposure and sufferings, and she was never quite herself again, mentally. The children recovered completely after a few weeks of nourishment, and the little girl who was so near dying in that hollow tree has since grown up and married."

"I think it is time for a story of less mournful character," said one of the party.

"By all means," said another; "let us have one."

"Well, here it is," was the reply.

"At the station of a wealthy squatter a party a.s.sembled one evening for a good time and a supper. There were young men and young women, as well as men and women who were not altogether young, who had been invited for miles around, and they had a jolly time, you may well believe me. Some of the young fellows, wishing to have some fun, disguised themselves in rough clothes, blackened their faces, and frowzed up their hair in the roughest kind of way. Then they suddenly appeared at the door of the large room, and the cry of 'Bushrangers!' was raised. Some of the ladies fainted in alarm, and all were more or less frightened. The joke was not kept up very long, as the counterfeit bushrangers were not good impersonators, and were speedily detected by their friends. There was a great deal of fun and laughter over the trick that had been played, and then the performers in the scheme resumed their ordinary dress and continued in the games with the others.

"An hour or so later, rough voices were heard outside of the house, and soon there appeared in the doorway six or eight rough-looking men with begrimed faces, untrimmed hair, and very shabby-looking garments, who entered the hall with a very determined manner. Some of the party burst out laughing, and exclaimed, 'Bushrangers again!' declaring that they would not be fooled a second time. Some of the others had an instinctive perception that this time the bushrangers were real ones."

The narrator paused, and Harry asked if that was the case.

"It was exactly," was the reply. "The men were notorious bushrangers who had been troubling that part of the country for some time. The robbers drew revolvers and ordered the men to 'bail up!' (hold up their hands) which they did in a hurry, and then they were commanded to stand in a row with their faces next to the wall.

"Then the bushrangers ordered the ladies to provide them with refreshments, while one was commanded to sit at the piano and entertain them with music. No one was allowed to leave the room except under the escort of a bushranger, for fear that word would be sent to the police.

"The scoundrels ate and drank freely, and then took possession of all the watches, jewelry, money, and other valuables in the possession of the party. After making their collection they left the place. Word was sent to the police as soon as possible, but as the police station was several miles away, the information was of no practical value."