In the Musgrave Ranges

by Conrad H. Sayce

The Oodnadatta trucking-yards are made of iron rails set in concrete and are capable of holding more than a thousand head of stock. Once the cattle are in, nothing matters, for the yards are strong enough to hold elephants. But the job is to get them in.

Inch by inch the grumbling mass of irritable beasts was urged forward by the white drover and his boys. It was a ticklish job, and the whips were kept quiet at first, except to flick up one or another which tried to poke out of the mob. All went well till the leading cattle came to the wing of the yard. Those iron rails frightened them. They had only seen a yard once before in their lives, and the rails of that one were made of wood.

"Steady, boys! Steady!" called the drover. "Keep 'em quiet a bit."

For a minute or two the stockmen sat back on their horses and did not urge the cattle forward, but let them get used to their new surroundings. The animals went up to the rails and smelt them, bellowing with surprise.

"Now, slowly, boys! Slowly!"

Very gradually the horsemen moved forward. To a new chum this care seemed very unnecessary. The gate was straight ahead. Why not force the animals through, and get the job over? But a thousand cattle cannot be forced by five men, as the boys were soon to see.

The leading cattle were now right up to the gate, and the others were slowly crowding on behind, till they were jammed in the wings. If only one or two would go through the rest would follow easily. But the leading bullock struck a tin buried in the sand. Instantly the great beast's head was raised and he sent out a roaring bellow. Those behind him crowded on, but he would not pass that tin. It was lying on top of the sand now. He tried to back away from it, and in doing so struck his foot against it again.

Bellow followed bellow. He set his feet firmly in the sand and would not budge. Down went his head, and he tossed clouds of sand into the air.

"Let 'em have it. Let 'em have it," shouted the drover. "Force 'em up there. Force 'em up." He stood in his stirrups and plied his whip, cracking it back and front, and shouting at the top of his voice. The blacks did the same, till it seemed as if they would force the cattle into the yard by sheer energy.

But no. The leading bullock stood firm. Something had to give way. No single animal could withstand the pressure of all the others from behind. The bullock lifted his head high and shook his mighty horns, and, with a roar which drowned all sounds of shouting, he turned along the side of the wing and charged. Nothing could stop him. Others followed till the cattle were going round and round like water in a whirlpool. What cattlemen most fear had happened: a ring. Not a single beast went through the gate. They passed it, at first slowly, then faster and faster, till they were galloping round and round like clumsy circus horses.