From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New

Most of those cattle were branded with a “B.H.,” which stood for Bob and Harry; but some were marked with the letters “A.B.,” for Archibald Broadbent, and – I need not hide the truth – Archie was a proud young man when he saw these marks. He realised now fully that he had commenced life in earnest, and was a squatter, not only in name, but in reality.

The fencing work and improvements still went gaily on, the ground being divided into immense paddocks, many of which our young farmers trusted to see ere long covered with waving grain.

The new herds soon got used to the country, and settled down on it, dividing themselves quietly into herds of their own making, that were found browsing together mornings and evenings in the best pastures, or gathered in mobs during the fierce heat of the middle-day.

Archie quickly enough acquired the craft of a cunning and bold stockman, and never seemed happier than when riding neck and neck with some runaway semi-wild bull, or riding in the midst of a mob, selecting the beast that was wanted. And at a job like the latter Tell and he appeared to be only one individual betwixt the two of them, like the fabled Centaur. He came to grief though once, while engaged heading a bull in as ugly a bit of country as any stockman ever rode over. It happened. Next chapter, please.

Chapter Twenty One

A Wild Adventure – Archie’s Pride Receives a Fall

It happened – I was going to say at the end of the other page – that in a few weeks’ time Mr Winslow paid his promised visit to Burley New Farm, as the three friends called it.

Great preparations had been made beforehand because Etheldene was coming with her father, and was accompanied by a black maid. Both Etheldene and her maid had been accommodated with a dray, and when Sarah, with her cheeks like ripe cherries, and her eyes like sloes, showed the young lady to her bedroom, Etheldene was pleased to express her delight in no measured terms. She had not expected anything like this. Real mattresses, with real curtains, a real sofa, and real lace round the looking-glass.

“It is almost too good for Bush-life,” said Etheldene; “but I am so pleased, Mrs Cooper; and everything is as clean and tidy as my own rooms in Sydney. Father, do come and see all this, and thank Mrs Cooper prettily.”

Somewhat to Archie’s astonishment a horse was led round next morning for Etheldene, and she appeared in a pretty dark habit, and was helped into the saddle, and gathered up the reins, and looked as calm and self-possessed as a princess could have done.

It was Gentleman Craig who was the groom, and a gallant one he made. For the life of him Archie could not help envying the man for his excessive coolness, and would have given half of his cattle – those with the bold “A.B.’s” on them – to have been only half as handsome.

Never mind. Archie is soon mounted, and cantering away by the young lady’s side, and feeling so buoyant and happy all over that he would not have exchanged places with a king on a throne.

“Oh, yes,” said Etheldene, laughing, as she replied to a question of Archie’s, “I know nearly everything about cattle, and sheep too! But,” she added, “I’m sure you are clever among them already.”

Archie felt the blood mount to his forehead; but he took off his broad hat and bowed for the compliment, almost as prettily as Gentleman Craig could have done himself.

Now, there is such a thing as being too clever, and it was trying to be clever that led poor Archie to grief that day.

The young man was both proud and pleased to have an opportunity of showing Etheldene round the settlement, all the more so that there was to be a muster of the herds that day, and neighbour-squatters had come on horseback to assist. This was a kind of a love-darg which was very common in Queensland a few years ago, and probably is to this day.

Archie pointed laughingly towards the stock whip Etheldene carried. He never for a moment imagined it was in the girl’s power to use or manage such an instrument.

“That is a pretty toy, Miss Winslow,” he said.

“Toy, do you call it, sir?” said this young Diana, pouting prettily. “It is only a lady’s whip, for the thong is but ten feet long. But listen.”

It flew from her hands as she spoke, and the sound made every animal within hearing raise head and sniff the air.

“Well,” said Archie, “I hope you won’t run into any danger.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “danger is fun!” And she laughed right merrily, and looked as full of life and beauty as a bird in spring time.

Etheldene was tall and well-developed for her age, for girls in this strange land very soon grow out of their childhood.

Archie had called her Diana in his own mind, and before the day was over she certainly had given proof that she well merited the title.

New herds had arrived, and had for one purpose or another to be headed into the stock yards. This is a task of no little difficulty, and to-day being warm these cattle appeared unusually fidgety. Twos and threes frequently stampeded from the mob, and went determinedly dashing back towards the creek and forest, so there was plenty of opportunities for anyone to show off his horsemanship. Once during a chase like this Archie was surprised to see Etheldene riding neck and neck for a time with a furious bull. He trembled for her safety as he dashed onwards to her assistance. But crack, crack, crack went the brave girl’s whip; she punished the runaway most unmercifully, and had succeeded in turning him ere her Northumbrian cavalier rode up. A moment more and the bull was tearing back towards the herd he had left, a stockman or two following close behind.

“I was frightened for you,” said Archie.

“Pray, don’t be so, Mr Broadbent. I don’t want to think myself a child, and I should not like you to think me one. Mind, I’ve been in the Bush all my life.”

But there was more and greater occasion to be frightened for Etheldene ere the day was done. In fact, she ran so madly into danger, that the wonder is she escaped. She had a gallant, soft-mouthed horse – that was one thing to her advantage – and the girl had a gentle hand.

But Archie drew rein himself, and held his breath with fear, to see a maddened animal, that she was pressing hard, turn wildly round and charge back on horse and rider with all the fury imaginable. A turn of the wrist of the bridle hand, one slight jerk of the fingers, and Etheldene’s horse had turned on a pivot, we might almost say, and the danger was over.

So on the whole, instead of Archie having had a very grand opportunity for showing off his powers before this young Diana, it was rather the other way.

The hunt ended satisfactory to both parties; and while Sarah was getting an extra good dinner ready, Archie proposed a canter “to give them an appetite.”

“Have you got an appetite, Mr Broadbent? I have.”

It was evident Etheldene was not too fine a lady to deny the possession of good health.

“Yes,” said Archie; “to tell you the plain truth, I’m as hungry as a hunter. But it’ll do the nags good to stretch their legs after so much wheeling and swivelling.”

So away they rode again, side by side, taking the blazed path towards the plains.

“You are sure you can find your way back, I suppose?” said Etheldene.

“I think so.”

“It would be good fun to be lost.”

“Would you really like to be?”

“Oh, we would not be altogether, you know! We would find our way to some hut and eat damper, or to some grand hotel, I suppose, in the Bush, and father and Craig would soon find us.”

“Father and you have known Craig long?”

“Yes, many, many years. Poor fellow, it is quite a pity for him. Father says he was very clever at college, and is a Master of Arts of Cambridge.”

“Well, he has taken his hogs to a nice market.”

“But father would do a deal for him if he could trust him. He has told father over and over again that plenty of people would trust him if he could only trust himself.”

“Poor man! So nice-looking too! They may well call him Gentleman Craig.”

“But is it not time we were returning?”

“Look! look!” she cried, before Archie could answer. “Yonder is a bull-fight. Whom does the little herd belong to?”

“Not to us. We are far beyond even our pastures. We have cut away from them. This is a kind of no-man’s land, where we go shooting at times; and I daresay they are trespassers or wild cattle. Pity they cannot be tamed.”

“They are of no use to anyone, I have heard father say, except to shoot. If they be introduced into a herd of stock cattle, they teach all the others mischief. But see how they fight! Is it not awful?”

“Yes. Had we not better return? I do not think your father would like you to witness such sights as that.”

The girl laughed lightly.

“Oh,” she cried, “you don’t half know father yet! He trusts me everywhere. He is very, very good, though not so refined as some would have him to be.”

The cows of this herd stood quietly by chewing their cuds, under the shade of a huge gum tree, while two red-eyed giant bulls struggled for mastery in the open.

It was a curious fight, and a furious fight. At the time Archie and his companion came in sight of the conflict, they had closed, and were fencing with their horns with as much skill, apparently, as any two men armed with foils could have displayed. The main points to be gained appeared to be to unlock or get out of touch of each other’s horns long enough to stab in neck and shoulder, and during the time of being in touch to force back and gain ground. Once during this fight the younger bull backed his opponent right to the top of a slight hill. It was a supreme effort, and evidently made in the hope that he would hurl him from a height at the other side. But in this he was disappointed; for the top was level, and the older one, regaining strength, hurled his enemy down the hill again far more quickly than he had come up. Round and round, and from side to side, the battle raged, till at long last the courage and strength of one failed completely. He suffered himself to be backed, and it was evident was only waiting an opportunity to escape uncut and unscathed. This came at length, and he turned and, with a cry of rage, dashed madly away to the forest. The battle now became a chase, and the whole herd, holloaing good luck to the victor, joined in it.

As there was no more to be seen, Archie and Etheldene turned their horses’ heads homewards.

They had not ridden far, however, before the vanquished bull himself hove in sight. He was alone now, though still tearing off in a panic, and moaning low and angrily to himself.

It was at this moment that what Archie considered a happy inspiration took possession of our impulsive hero.

“Let us wait till he passes,” he said, “and drive him before us to camp.”

Easily said. But how was it to be done?

They drew back within the shadow of a tree, and the bull rushed past. Then out pranced knight Archie, cracking his stock whip.

The monster paused, and wheeling round tore up the ground with his hoofs in a perfect agony of anger.

“What next?” he seemed to say to himself. “It is bad enough to be beaten before the herd; but I will have my revenge now.”

The brute’s roaring now was like the sound of a gong, hollow and ringing, but dreadful to listen to.

Archie met him boldly enough, intending to cut him in the face as he dashed past. In his excitement he dug his spurs into Tell, and next minute he was on the ground. The bull rushed by, but speedily wheeled, and came tearing back, sure now of blood in which to dip his ugly hoofs.

Archie had scrambled up, and was near a tree when the infuriated beast came down on the charge. Even at this moment of supreme danger Archie – he remembered this afterwards – could not help admiring the excessively business-like way the animal came at him to break him up. There was a terrible earnestness and a terrible satisfaction in his face or eyes; call it what you like, there it was.

Near as Archie was to the tree, to reach and get round it was impossible. He made a movement to get at his revolver; but it was too late to draw and fire, so at once he threw himself flat on the ground. The bull rushed over him, and came into collision with the tree trunk. This confused him for a second or two, and Archie had time to regain his feet. He looked wildly about for his horse. Tell was quietly looking on; he seemed to be waiting for his young master. But Archie never would have reached the horse alive had not brave Etheldene’s whip not been flicked with painful force across the bull’s eyes. That blow saved Archie, though the girl’s horse was wounded on the flank.

A minute after both were galloping speedily across the plain, all danger over; for the bull was still rooting around the tree, apparently thinking that his tormentors had vanished through the earth.

“How best can I thank you?” Archie was saying.

“By saying nothing about it,” was Etheldene’s answer.

“But you have saved my life, child.”

“A mere bagatelle, as father says,” said this saucy Queensland maiden, with an arch look at her companion. But Archie did not look arch as he put the next question.

“Which do you mean is the bagatelle, Etheldene, my life, or the saving of it?”

“Yes, you may call me Etheldene – father’s friends do – but don’t, please, call me child again.”

“I beg your pardon, Etheldene.”

“It is granted, sir.”

“But now you haven’t answered my question.”

“What was it? I’m so stupid!”

“Which did you mean was the bagatelle – my life, or the saving of it?”

“Oh, both!”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I could save Gentleman Craig’s life,” she added, looking thoughtful and earnest all in a moment.

“Bother Gentleman Craig!” thought Archie; but he was not rude enough to say so.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because he once saved mine. That was when I was lost in the Bush, you know. He will tell you some day – I will ask him to. He is very proud though, and does not like to talk very much about himself.”

Archie was silent for a short time. Why, he was wondering to himself, did it make him wretched – as it certainly had done – to have Etheldene look upon his life and the saving of it as a mere bagatelle. Why should she not? Still the thought was far from pleasant. Perhaps, if he had been killed outright, she would have ridden home and reported his death in the freest and easiest manner, and the accident would not have spoiled her dinner. The girl could have no feeling; and yet he had destined her, in his own mind, to be Rupert’s wife. She was unworthy of so great an honour. It should never happen if he could prevent it. Suddenly it occurred to him to ask her what a bagatelle was.

“A bagatelle?” she replied. “Oh, about a thousand pounds. Father always speaks of a thousand pounds as a mere bagatelle.”

Archie laughed aloud – he could not help it; but Etheldene looked merrily at him as she remarked quietly, “You wouldn’t laugh if you knew what I know.”

“Indeed! What is it?”

“We are both lost!”

“Goodness forbid!”

“You won’t have grace to say to-day – there will be no dinner; that’s always the worst of being lost.”

Archie looked around him. There was not a blazed tree to be seen, and he never remembered having been in the country before in which they now rode.

“We cannot be far out,” he said, “and I believe we are riding straight for the creek.”

“So do I, and that is one reason why we are both sure to be wrong. It’s great fun, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. We’re in an ugly fix. I really thought I was a better Bushman than I am.”

Poor Archie! His pride had received quite a series of ugly falls since morning, but this was the worst come last. He felt a very crestfallen cavalier indeed.

It did not tend to raise his spirits a bit to be told that if Gentleman Craig were here, he would find the blazed-tree line in a very short time.

But things took a more cheerful aspect when out from a clump of trees rode a rough-looking stockman, mounted on a sackful of bones in the shape of an aged white horse.

He stopped right in front of them.

“Hillo, younkers! Whither away? Can’t be sundowners, sure-ly!”

“No,” said Archie; “we are not sundowners. We are riding straight home to Burley New Farm.”

“’Xcuse me for contradicting you flat, my boy. It strikes me ye ain’t boss o’ the sitivation. Feel a kind o’ bushed, don’t ye?”

Archie was fain to confess it.

“Well, I know the tracks, and if ye stump it along o’ me, ye won’t have to play at babes o’ the wood to-night.”

They did “stump it along o’ him,” and before very long found themselves in the farm pasture lands.

They met Craig coming, tearing along on his big horse, and glad he was to see them.

“Oh, Craig,” cried Etheldene, “we’ve been having such fun, and been bushed, and everything!”

“I found this ’ere young gent a-bolting with this ’ere young lady,” said their guide, whom Craig knew and addressed by the name of Hurricane Bill.

“A runaway match, eh? Now, who was in the fault? But I think I know. Let me give you a bit of advice, sir. Never trust yourself far in the Bush with Miss Ethie. She doesn’t mind a bit being lost, and I can’t be always after her. Well, dinner is getting cold.”

“Did you wait for us?” said Etheldene.

“Not quite unanimously, Miss Ethie. It was like this: Mr Cooper and Mr Harry waited for you, and your father waited for Mr Broadbent. It comes to the same thing in the end, you know.”

“Yes,” said Etheldene, “and it’s funny.”

“What did you come for, Bill? Your horse looks a bit jaded.”

“To invite you all to the hunt. Findlayson’s compliments, and all that genteel nonsense; and come as many as can. Why, the kangaroos, drat ’em, are eating us up. What with them and the dingoes we’ve been having fine times, I can tell ye!”

“Well, it seems to me, Bill, your master is always in trouble. Last year it was the blacks, the year before he was visited by bushrangers, wasn’t he?”

“Ye-es. Fact is we’re a bit too far north, and a little too much out west, and so everything gets at us like.”

“And when is the hunt?”

“Soon’s we can gather.”

“I’m going for one,” said Etheldene.

“What you, Miss?” said Hurricane Bill. “You’re most too young, ain’t ye?”

The girl did not condescend to answer him.

“Come, sir, we’ll ride on,” she said to Archie.

And away they flew.

“Depend upon it, Bill, if she says she is going, go she will, and there’s an end of it.”

“Humph!” That was Bill’s reply. He always admitted he had “no great fancy for womenfolks.”

Chapter Twenty Two

Round the Log Fire – Hurricane Bill and the Tiger-Snake – Gentleman Craig’s Resolve

Kangaroo driving or hunting is one of the wild sports of Australia, though I have heard it doubted whether there was any real sport in it. It is extremely exciting, and never much more dangerous than a ride after the hounds at home in a rough country.

It really does seem little short of murder, however, to surround the animals and slay them wholesale; only, be it remembered, they are extremely hard upon the herbage. It has been said that a kangaroo will eat as much as two sheep; whether this be true or not, these animals must be kept down, or they will keep the squatter down. Every other species of wild animal disappears before man, but kangaroos appear to imagine that human beings were sent into the bush to make two blades of grass grow where only one grew before, and that both blades belong to them.

The only people from Burley New Farm who went to the Findlayson kangaroo drive were Harry, Archie, and Etheldene, and Craig to look after her. Me. Winslow stopped at home with Bob, to give him advice and suggest improvements; for he well knew his daughter would be safe with Gentleman Craig.

It was a long ride, however, and one night was to be spent in camp; but as there was nothing to do, and nothing in the shape of cattle or sheep to look after, it was rather jolly than otherwise. They found a delightful spot near a clear pool and close by the forest to make their pitch on for the night.

Hurricane Bill was the active party on this occasion; he found wood with the help of Harry, and enough of it to last till the morning. The beauty, or one of the beauties, of the climate in this part of Australia is, that with the sun the thermometer sinks, and the later spring and even summer nights are very pleasant indeed.

When supper was finished, and tea, that safest and best of stimulants, had been discussed, talking became general; everybody was in good spirits in the expectation of some fun on the morrow; for a longish ride through the depth of that gloomy forest would bring them to the plain and to Findlayson’s in time for a second breakfast.

Hurricane Bill told many a strange story of Australian life, but all in the way of conversation; for Bill was a shy kind of man, and wanted a good deal of drawing-out, as the dog said about the badger.

Archie gave his experiences of hunting in England, and of shooting and fishing and country adventure generally in that far-off land, and he had no more earnest listener than Etheldene. To her England was the land of romance. Young though she was, she had read the most of Walter Scott’s novels, and had an idea that England and Scotland were still peopled as we find these countries described by the great wizard, and she did not wish to be disillusioned. The very mention of the word “castle,” or “ruin,” or “coat of mail,” brought fancies and pictures into her mind that she would not have had blotted out on any account.

Over and over again, many a day and many a time, she had made Archie describe to her every room in the old farm; and his turret chamber high up above the tall-spreading elm trees, where the rooks built and cawed in spring, and through which the wild winds of winter moaned and soughed when the leaves had fallen, was to Etheldene a veritable room in fairyland.

“Oh,” she said to-night, “how I should love it all! I do want to go to England, and I’ll make father take me just once before I die.”

“Before ye die, miss!” said Hurricane Bill. “Why it is funny to hear the likes o’ you, with all the world before ye, talkin’ about dying.”

Well, by-and-by London was mentioned, and then it was Harry’s turn. He was by no means sorry to have something to say.

“Shall I describe to you, Miss Winslow,” he said, “some of the wild sights of Whitechapel?”

“Is it a dreadfully wild place, Mr Brown?”

“It is rather; eh, Johnnie?”

“I don’t know much about it, Harry.”

“Well, there are slums near by there, miss, that no man with a black coat and an umbrella dare enter in daylight owing to the wild beasts. Then there are peelers.”

“What are peelers? Monkeys?”

“Yes, miss; they are a sort of monkeys – blue monkeys – and carry sticks same as the real African ourang-outangs do. And can’t they use them too!”

“Are they very ugly?”

“Awful, and venomous too; and at night they have one eye that shines in the dark like a wild cat’s, and you’ve got to stand clear when that eye’s on you.”

“Well,” said Etheldene, “I wouldn’t like to be lost in a place like that. I’d rather be bushed where I am. But I think, Mr Brown, you are laughing at me. Are there any snakes in Whitechapel?”

“No, thank goodness; no, miss. I can’t stand snakes much.”

“There was a pretty tiger crept past you just as I was talking though,” she said with great coolness.

Harry jumped and shook himself. Etheldene laughed.

“It is far enough away by this time,” she remarked. “I saw something ripple past you, Harry, like a whip-thong. I thought my eyes had made it.”

“You brought it along with the wood perhaps,” said Craig quietly.

“’Pon my word,” cried Harry, “you’re a lot of Job’s comforters, all of you. D’ye know I won’t sleep one blessed wink to-night. I’ll fancy every moment there is a snake in my blanket or under the saddle.”

“They won’t come near you, Mr Brown,” said Craig. “They keep as far away from Englishmen as possible.”

“Not always,” said Bill. “Maybe ye wouldn’t believe it, but I was bitten and well-nigh dead, and it was a tiger as done it. And if I ain’t English, then there ain’t an Englishman ’twixt ’ere and Melbourne. See that, miss?” He held up a hand in the firelight as he spoke.

“Why,” said Etheldene, “you don’t mean to say the snake bit off half your little finger?”