Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost Legion

by G. Hamilton-Browne

We were to start at midnight, so we who were to go lay down to get what rest we could, leaving the others to get the horses ready for us. At midnight we were roused up, and after swallowing a mug of tea and some food, a hurried glance over my horse and kit, to see that my water-bag was well filled and properly slung to the D’s of my saddle, we started.

We were all superbly mounted and well armed, each man carrying two revolvers; I would sooner have carried a carbine, but I was dissuaded, and we had cause to regret it. The fight might have finished much sooner had I done as I judged best; but I was in what was to me a foreign country and, having no official status, gave in to the others. So we started, the blacks leading; and they did lead us. No sooner were we clear of the paddock fences than we broke into a canter, and made for a dense line of bushes about five miles off, and just as we reached it the moon went down. I expected to see the blacks pull up and walk their horses, but not a bit of it. On they went at the same pace. The bush was some miles through, but no crow could have crossed it in a straighter line than they did. On reaching the open ground on the other side we halted and dismounted, for a short time, so as to give our steeds a blow. It was now pitch dark, with not even the glimmer of a star, yet no sooner had we mounted than we broke into a canter again, and rode through open park-like country and bush till the east began to lighten, when we pulled up at a small water-hole.

This was the spot our guides had aimed for, and it was at least twenty miles from our starting-point, so it will give you some idea of the marvellous abilities of these creatures. To be able to ride twenty miles at a sharp pace, through trackless country, on a dark night, and exactly strike the spot they aimed for, was to me wonderful. It may not strike you so, but try it.

We off-saddled, rubbed down, watered and fed our horses out of their nose-bags, then ate some cold mutton and damper, and dozed for a couple of hours, leaving the blacks to keep watch over us and our horses. Saddling up again we rode through clumps of bush and up gently rising ground towards a range of heavily bushed mountains, some ten miles off, through which ran the divide, or pass, we were to guard. We halted when we reached the foot of the range, and took cover in a small clump of bush, off-saddled and sent one black on foot to scout the pass and find by the spoor if anyone had crossed it during the last twenty-four hours.

Of course, being an utter stranger in the land, I knew nothing of the lay of the country, nor even where the pass was; but a rather acrid discussion took place between the stockriders, who declared we were badly posted, and the trooper, who asserted we were not. Unable to give an opinion either way, I was lying down with my head on my saddle when we were roused by some shots. I jumped to my feet just in time to see our scout burst out of a clump of bush and run like a hare towards us, closely followed by four mounted men firing at him.

They were about 500 yards off, and had I had my carbine I could easily have covered the black, and perhaps have ended the job there and then; but my carbine was like the Dutchman’s anchor, left at home, so there was nothing to do but throw our saddles on and try to save him. Quick and smart as we were, we were too late to save poor Tarpot, who was ridden down and riddled. As each of us got into his saddle he charged, and the bushrangers, seeing us coming, turned and galloped back to the bush from which they had issued. I was the fourth to mount, and as I galloped out of the bush I saw the three men in front of me riding in file as hard as they could gallop, with as much as from twenty to thirty yards between them. This was rot; as, if the bushrangers made a stand on reaching their bush, as they were certain to do, they would simply shoot us down from behind cover, one after the other. I therefore shouted to the leading men to rein in and let us get into line; but their blood was up, and on they went. I pulled out to their left, and Blake and the remaining black pulled out to my left. We were therefore in extended line, some fifty yards to the left rear of the last man of the leading three who were in file. The distance was short, and as we were all riding like fiends we soon crossed the open ground between the two clumps of bush.

The trooper, who was the leading man, was within thirty yards of entering it when I saw him throw up his hands and fall headlong from his horse. In a second No. 2 had done the same, and a moment later No. 3 went down, horse and man. Myself and the other two, riding wide of the line of fire, escaped and, although several shots were fired at us, gained the bush unhurt. Then, being on equal terms with the bushrangers, we wheeled our horses to the right and rode at them.

Just at this moment I heard shouts and shots going on close to, at the other side of the bush, but had no time to inquire if it were friends or foes. I spotted a horse’s head coming round a tree-trunk, and was ready for the rider. He appeared, and saw me; but I had him already covered, and had the pleasure of seeing him lurch out of his saddle and come a heavy crumpler. My mates were alongside of me, and we were just going after another bounder, whose horse’s hindquarters were disappearing, when an officer and three troopers broke out on us, and called on us to bail up. In less than a minute we explained who we were, and I was just starting off after the fugitives when the officer called on me to halt, and in a rather haughty manner informed me that he was in command of the party, and that he intended to halt until he had collected his scattered men, some of whom were wounded. As he only stated the truth, I was not such a fool as to feel offended with him, so I went with Blake to see if anything could be done for our fallen mates.

The trooper and the first stockman were both dead, the third man was unwounded, but his horse had been killed, and he had been knocked stiff and silly by the heavy fall. However, after some water and a stiff nip he was soon all right, and swearing he would make the blank-blank-blankety-blank bounders who had killed his pet stock horse and his mate sit up.

We quickly caught the loose horses and were soon joined by the officer and his troopers, who were a very fine, smart-looking crowd, but, to my mind, far too big and too heavy for this sort of game. They had two of their number badly wounded, but had wounded and captured three bushrangers, so that, with the one I had put out of mess, Ginger could now have only three men with him. The officer, therefore, determined to follow their spoor with our party and four of his own men. Messengers were despatched to other patrols and to the nearest station to obtain a conveyance for the wounded men, and we started under the guidance of Jampot, our remaining black.