Before reaching the cattle station (known as Bankabanka, I believe; there was no one at home except a few blackfellows and lubras, who greatly enjoyed the sight of a so ragged a whitefeller and the bicycle, but who were a very inoffensive lot of people), I was so fortunate as to come upon a couple of horsemen; and in their company I was glad to "spell" awhile. Valuable directions also were obtained about those pads ahead which led out and in again to the telegraph line, and I had word, too, of a mob of sheep in charge of a white man, who, by this time, was expected to be camped somewhere between the station and the line.
After a day's travelling away from the cattle station, first over an expansive, luxuriantly-grassed plain on which not a tree was to be seen for many miles, and then into and through rough, rugged ranges, I reached the waterhole on which the sheep were camped, and spent there a happy night, eating and thinking of the fresh mutton, cake, and other acceptable novelties with which the gentlemanly drover-boss plied and supplied me.
Referring to my note-book, I make out the following random jottings:—"The mulga has disappeared. The prevailing trees appear to me to be dwarfed, stunted gums; whether in truth they are properly gums or box, or peppermint, or what—I cannot tell; but they are clearly of the Eucalyptus family. Nearly all white-stemmed, and averaging from 20 to 30 feet in height. The yellow blossoms of a wattle bush relieve the lower but never thickly growing scrub. Extensive belts of spinifex; and, on less sandy soil, and about the creeks, many flats covered with long spear grass. This grass is over six feet high—a continual source of annoyance, as now is the time to catch the falling seeds; sharp pointed things these, which wriggle and twist about in one's clothes, until they enter so far that a fellow has to stop and pull them out of the various parts of him. Further north, the people tell me, this spear grass grows to a height of 12 feet (and over that; but 12 feet is tall enough for me), with worrying seeds of proportionate size. Have torn my handkerchief in two and wrapped a half around the extremity of each pyjama leg to prevent the obnoxious things accumulating around my ankles.
"Much walking—sand. Riding northerly; the cross shadows before and after midday add to the already many risks. And the pads are so narrow; branches of trees and bushes hit the face; often an eye-lash from an eye. Find myself at morning time or evening dismounting hurriedly to lead the bicycle over the shadow of a branch which I mistook for substance, and a minute after, running full tilt into a log which I had mistaken for a harmless shadow."
"Stony hills, small creeks, and grassed flats" was the order of the day on which I again struck the telegraph line; and along by that the track was both distinct and fair "going" passing between low hills to Renner Springs. Glazed pebbles and agates (of no value except as curios) were thickly scattered on the hill-tops and at the foot of the various rises for some distance.
* * * *
Where the pad led on to the line-track two natives were walking on ahead. On turning and seeing me they only backed a little from the twelve inches of highway, and looked astonished. I pulled up to interview them—or it may be I trembled so much with terror that I was unable to continue riding. Two very good specimens, these. Well set up and picturesquely ornamented with many cicatrices rising across the breasts and arms. One was able to speak comprehensibly; the other wore feathers in his hair, and looked from head to foot an unsophisticated savage, reminiscent of a Fenimore Cooper's Injun fresh starting on the war trail and bent fixedly on acquiring somebody's "skelp" for his wigwam. As it was, I daresay he was out on a hunt after bandicoots for his dinner.
After inquiring the distance to Renner Springs—which I knew to be about 15 miles—and getting the usually precise information "long way," from the one, I asked politely of the other what his name might perchance be. But he did not answer; and the spokesman, in explanation of this silence, probably, told me, "Him German blackfellow."
Ha! here was a discovery. The "Made in Germany" grievance had invaded the north-central Australian tribes!
"Sprecken sie Deutch, herr blackfellow?" He condescended to give me the disrespectful-sounding monosyllable "Yah!"