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Chapter X. Preparations for a Cattle-Muster.

I Had by this time unpacked my saddle and bridle. I was very proud of my turnout, and while the horses are being run in I will give the history of it. It had been presented to me by an old friend of my father's, and, I may say, of mine also. It consisted of an English hunting saddle with plain flaps, a bit and bridoon, and a breastplate with martingale attached. The donor was an ardent follower of the chase, and a man whose opinion on all matters connected with sport was law. His appointments were all made to order from patterns supplied by himself of the very beat material that could be obtained, and were well calculated for the work for which they were required. I need hardly remark that, boy like, I regarded my friend as a little god. He certainly was my godfather, but it was not his strenuous efforts to fulfil his duties in that line that caused me to form such a divine opinion of him; it was his prowess in the field, and his painstaking endeavours to school me, from the time I made my first appearance on an old pony, into as cool and collected a follower of the noble sport as he was. Although by no means considered a hard riding man, yet he was always ‘there or thereabouts,’ to use his own term. He rode with a temperate judgment, which generally enabled him to see out the most severe run, even if his second horse did not happen to be available, when the hard riding lot, who had jumped their nags at the first burst were altogether ‘out of the hunt.’ What wonder that the friends of such a man should be astounded to hear of his determination to give up hunting! The reason, however, was not long a secret. He had, at the ripe age of forty-five, yielded himself up to the fascinations of a charming widow of thirty or thereabouts. Her former husband had been killed by a fall in the field, curiously enough owing to neglecting the advice of the man who eventually became his successor, and riding a weedy brute at a jump, which was entirely beyond his powers. The good lady never uttered a word about wishing him to give up hunting before marriage, yet directly after she bored him so unbearably with commands to be careful for her sake, and implored him so repeatedly to sell his two best hunters—Harkaway and Defiance—for she was certain they were vicious, that at last he determined to give up the sport for the sake of peace and quietness. He informed his friends that he was getting tired of hunting, and settled down into a tame married man, only occasionally appearing at the meets in the pony carriage with his wife. When his former comrades recovered from their astonishment, and became acquainted with his good lady, they broadly asserted that she wore the unmentionables, and as the poor fellow could not ride without them, he had to accept the friendly cover of the pony phaeton. I being young, and extremely verdant at the time, had never heard the expression before, and caused immense amusement by indignantly remarking that ‘I thought it a great shame and very unladylike of her to wear the buckskins on purpose to prevent him page 40 from riding to hounds.’ His tackle being of no further use to him, he handed it to me, saying at the time that he preferred my having it, as he knew so apt a pupil would never disgrace it.

To return, however, to my story. The ladies now made their appearance, ready equipped, and we strolled out to see the horses driven up. Instead of the groom going out with a halter and sieve of corn, as is the custom at home, there was Master Charlie on a bare-backed horse tearing after the others at full gallop with a most formidable stock-whip, which, in my futile attempts to crack, I found long enough to curl round my neck an indefinite number of times and take a bit out of my cheek to boot. I remember Fanny's cool remark on that occasion: ‘That's the sort, Frank. It won't hurt you to lose a little of your cheek.’

How the cunning old stock horse, which Charlie bestrode, seemed to delight in circumventing the attempts of his mates to escape, evidently thinking to himself: ‘I'm in for a day's work, and I'll take all sorts of care that you don't get off.’ As they were at last safely run in, and the stock-yard gate closed, Fanny inquired of Charlie what horse I was to ride.

‘Oh, old Playboy, I suppose.’

‘But you know he occasionally bucks since Tim gave him that sore back.’

‘That's nothing. Father says Frank can ride.’

I was thinking I would ask for a quieter mount for my first attempt at stock riding until I should have discovered what this wonderful buck jumping would be like.

‘Let me ride him, Charlie,’ exclaimed Fanny. ‘He really is not fit for Frank. He can have my mare.’

I could not stand this, that a lady should imagine she could ride a horse which was not docile enough for me; nor could I bear the idea of my adored cousin risking her life on such a brute, so I put in my vote for Playboy, and ran across for my saddle and bridle. Charlie and the stockman had the ill manners to burst out laughing when they saw them, and I fear that Fanny joined in, much to my astonishment and disgust.

‘Don't put on that useless stuff,’ remarked Charlie. ‘Ride him in this,’ producing an old rusty snaffle bridle, the leather work of which was substantial enough. ‘That will only torment him, and get his monkey up.’

‘But how could I stop him and turn him with that when we had headed the cattle? I much prefer a curb.’

They gave way to more mirth at my expense, and informed me that I had better wear the curb myself, as I should require more stopping than the horse, and so the event proved. Fanny requested me to be guided by her, and ride the animal in the bridle to which he was accustomed, and to dispense with the martingale, as he did not require it, but that I might stick to my saddle if I liked. I thought it best to obey my fair instructress, merely stating that I meant to do my utmost to stick to it, and that if I left it it would be more my misfortune than fault. It was, however, with great reluctance I put on the old snaffle, as it entirely spoilt the effect, and I almost wished I had taken one of the old stock saddles as well; it would have been more in accord with the bridle. Later on, when I had tried them, I entirely discarded my hunting saddle in favour of one of these colonial stock saddles. The large knee pads save one many a page 41 blow when riding through rough scrub, and are an immense assistance when turning sharply round at full gallop, or when every aid is required in sticking to a raw youngster for the first time you back him. I still, however, claim for the English saddle its adaptability for the work for which it is intended—riding across country on a trained horse.

Two handsome fillies had been saddled for the ladies, and I had the sublime felicity of assisting Miss Fanny to her saddle, while Charlie put up his other sister, then mounted his own wiry-looking black pony. My uncle was on a powerful-looking bay. I got on Playboy with considerable caution while Tim hold his head. He then jumped on a very ragged-looking, nondescript nag, which, as far as appearance went, matched his master wonderfully well, but when there was work to be accomplished the pair proved very hard to beat. Playboy looked very mild till I was fairly seated, for I believe he scorned to take an unfair advantage of a new-chum. When, however, I wished him to move he suddenly appeared possessed with an insane wish to nibble at his tail by stretching his head between his forelegs, and his tail in like manner between his hind ones, giving at the same time spasmodic bounds in the air, which made me imagine I was on a conglomeration of whalebone and india-rubber instead of a horse. I held on to my reins like grim death. Fortunately, my boast that I could ride was not unfounded, for although I shot at each bound a considerable distance in the air, yet I always dropped into the saddle again with a bang that threatened the tree, or the seat of my new riding pants. Luckily, also, Mr Playboy was supposed only to be actuated with a spirit of fun, and when thus influenced he always bucked straight forward, and not in all directions promiscuously, or, as I was going straight on, we should have parted. As it was, after every bound I felt less certain about the length of my endurance, and had he kept it up a very few moments longer I should have disgraced myself by a fall. I gained great applause from the girls, more, I suppose, for the way I regained my seat after every bound than from my prowess in keeping it, but uncle did not applaud. ‘Hold tighter with your knees next time, you duffer, or you'll come to grief.’

‘How could I when he wasn't always there to hold?’ I panted, devoutly hoping the next time would not arrive.

‘Hold him there, then. What's a saddle for but to stick to?’

This advice was doubtless valuable, but remarkably hard to follow. After this little game, as they called it, Playboy settled down to his work, and I cantered alongside of my adorable cousin, whose lively conversation increased if possible my intense adoration for her.

A lady who can ride shows off nowhere to more perfection than on a neat and spirited mount, and these cousins of mine could ride. I use the word as expressing far more than simply sitting a horse. Anyone with pluck enough and a little experience can do that, but these girls sat their horses as if, indeed, they were part of the animal themselves, and handled their mouths with a light touch, as if they were aware that horses have feelings which should be respected. Although only quite recently broken, they managed them splendidly.

We chatted away on various subjects, and taking advantage of Alice being out of earshot, I presume I must have, with my usual bluntness and impetuosity, too suddenly approached the tender theme of love, for Fanny showed an unmistakeable desire to change the page 42 subject, which she endeavoured to effect in the following remarkably lucid manner.

‘Are not those clouds lovely?’

‘Yes, I replied, ‘but where are they?’

‘I do not know,’ she answered, for on looking round the azure skies not even a fleecy mass as big as a man's hand could be descried. Never at a loss, she added playfully, ‘I must have meant the hills.’

‘They, too, are superb; in fact, everything appears to have assumed, its noblest aspect to-day,’ I exclaimed, gazing rapturously at my companion.

‘Do you read Longfellow? He is my favourite poet, for we do read poetry in the bush, though you may not believe it. To-day is one of those days he has immortalized in his poem, “A Day of Sunshine.” I always think of the second verse, which exactly describes my sensations, especially when enjoying a good gallop on a spring morning.’

‘So it does mine,’ I stupidly rejoined, ‘but I forget how it goes just now. Do you remember?’

‘I should just think I did.’

‘Through every fibre of the brain,
Through every nerve, through every vein, I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life that seems almost too much.

‘Ah, yes, that's it; it's exactly how I feel. Curious coincidence isn't it, that it should affect us both in the same way?’

Before she had time to answer this exceedingly bold remark of mine we suddenly, in turning round the bend of a hill, came in sight of the rest of our party waiting for us. It is true we had considerably dawdled.

‘Come, Frank,’ shouted uncle, ‘this won't do. All behind when there's work to be done. The girls can keep along this range. You and I, Frank, will ride up that valley. Charlie and Tim can look over yonder flat. We'll all meet at the camping-ground by Deep Creek.’

‘Oh, papa,’ exclaimed Fanny, ‘Frank had better accompany us, as he can't be of much use to you. We can show him all about the run, and the likely places to find cattle from the top of the range.’

I glanced thankfully at my cousin for her thoughtfulness.

‘Nonsense, Fanny. It's work to-day, not flirting and fun for Master Frank.’

We therefore parted for the present. The country was covered with high fern on both sides of us as we rode along, but away to the right lay a large extent of dense bush. The young shoots of the fern are considered by the cattle a great delicacy, and they come out of the bush in the spring to enjoy this desirable change of provender, although judging from their remarkably sleek and fat appearance, when compared with paddock fed cattle, they have certainly no cause to grumble at their winter fare and shelter. The former consists of the leaves and small branches of trees, which they show great dexety in breaking down by twisting them in their horns. The karaka, a tree with very brittle branches, and broad dark green leaves, is a special favourite with them, and when it is plentiful it is astonishing how they thrive, even in the depth of winter, camping in the warm bush gullies.

Uncle having a large extent of bush on his run, made a practice page 43 of mustering early in the spring, when the cattle first appeared in the open, as they could then be cautiously approached by horsemen, to see which were fit for the butcher, and to wean and brand any calves that were considered capable of providing for themselves.