"I shall shoot the first man who touches those rails to take my cattle out."
McDougall laughed, and ordered one of his men to take down the slip-rails, but the man hesitated; he did not like the looks of Mason. Then McDougall dismounted from his horse and went to the slip-rails, but as soon as he touched them Mason shot him.
Coady Buckley spared neither trouble nor expense in obtaining the best counsel for Mason's defence at the trial in Melbourne. He was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to nine years' imprisonment, but after a time was released on the condition of leaving Victoria, and when last heard of was a drover beyond the Murray.
After the departure of Glengarry, Dancer could find no profitable employment in Gippsland, and lived in a state of indigence. At last he borrowed sufficient money on a promissory note to pay his passage to Ireland. In Tipperary he became a baronet and a sheriff, and lived to a good old age.
WANTED, A CATTLE MARKET.
It seemed incredible to the first settlers in North Gippsland that their new Punjaub, the land of the five rivers, which emptied their waters into immense lakes, should communicate with the sea by no channel suitable for ships, and an expedition was organised to endeavour to find an outlet. McMillan had two boats at his station at Bushy Park, but he had no sails, so he engaged Davy as sailmaker and chief navigator on the intended voyage. The two men rode together from the Old Port up the track over Tom's Cap, and shot two pigeons by the way, which was fortunate, for when they arrived at Kilmany Park William Pearson was absent, and his men were found to be living under a discipline so strict that his stock-keeper, Jimmy Rentoul, had no meat, and dared not kill any without orders; so McMillan and Davy fried the pigeons, and ate one each for supper. Next morning they shot some ducks for breakfast, and then proceeded on their journey. They called at Mewburn Park, arrived at Bushy Park (McMillan's own station), and Davy began making the sails the same evening. Next morning he crossed the river in a canoe, made out of a hollow log, to Boisdale, Lachlan Macalister's station, and went to the milking yard. The management was similar to that of Dancer at Greenmount. Eleven men and women were milking about one hundred and fifty cows, superintended by nine Highlanders, who were sitting on the toprails discoursing in Gaelic. One of them was Jock Macdonald, who was over eighteen stone in weight, too heavy for any ordinary horse to carry; the rest were Macalisters, Gillies, and Thomsons. The stockmen were convicts, and they lived with the Highlanders in a big building like the barracks for soldiers. Every man seemed to do just what he liked, to kill what he liked, and to eat what he liked, and it was astonishing to see so little discipline on a station owned by a gentleman who had seen service both in the army and in the border police.
The blacks were at this time very troublesome about the new stations. They began to be fond of beef, and in order to get it they drove fat cattle into the morasses and speared them. This proceeding produced strained relations between the two races, and the only effectual remedy was the gun. But many of the settlers had scruples about shooting blackfellows except in self-defence, and it could hardly be called self-defence to shoot one or more of the natives because a beast had been speared by some person or persons unknown. John Campbell, at Glencoe, tried a dog, a savage deerhound, which he trained to chase the human game. This dog acquired great skill in seizing a blackfellow by the heel, throwing him, and worrying him until Campbell came up on his horse. When the dog had thus expelled the natives from Glencoe, Campbell agreed to lend him to little Curlewis for three months in order to clear Holey Plains Station. Curlewis paid ten heifers for the loan of the dog, and Campbell himself went to give him a start in the hunt, as the animal would not own any other man as master. But the blacks soon learned that Campbell and his dog had left Glencoe unprotected, and the second night after his departure they boldly entered the potato patch near his hut, and bandicooted the whole of his potatoes.
When the sails were made, the two boats were provisioned with tea, sugar, flour, and a keg of whisky; the meat was carried in the shape of two live sheep, to be killed when required. The party consisted of eight men, and each man was armed with a double-barrelled gun. McMillan, McLennan, Loughnan, and Davy went in one boat, and in the other boat were William Pearson, John Reeve, Captain Orr, and Sheridan, who was manager for Raymond at Stratford. Sheridan was a musical man, and took his flute with him. When everything was ready they dropped down the river to Lake Wellington, and took note of the soundings during the whole of the voyage as they went along. Wherever they approached either shore, they saw natives or found traces of them. Every beach was strewn with the feathers of the ducks, swans, and other birds they had killed, and it was difficult to find sufficient dead wood near the water to make a fire, the blacks having used so much of it at their numerous camping places.
The gins had an ingenious system of capturing the ducks. They moved along under water, leaving nothing but their nostrils visible above the surface, and they were thus able to approach the unsuspecting birds. As opportunity offered they seized them by the legs, drew them quickly under water, and held them until they were drowned. When they had secured as many as they could hold in one hand they returned to land.