A Lad of Mettle

by Nat Gould

A couple of days after their meeting with the telegraph repairers the party arrived at Alice Springs—the most interesting of all the stations on the overland telegraph line. Alice Springs stands high above the sea-level, and there is magnificent and interesting scenery in the district, the valley in which it lies being of exceptional beauty.

As Edgar looked at the scene mapped out before him, he could not help expressing astonishment at what he saw. Alice Springs he had imagined as a bare, desolate spot, and here he saw the great MacDonnell Ranges lying to the north, the source of rivers, creeks, and springs, the valley stretching far away to east and west. The River Todd, running close by, lends a picturesque charm to the scene.

There were numerous people about when the party arrived, as Alice Springs is the repeating station on the line, and consequently a considerable number of officers were employed. The buildings were not particularly enchanting, but they were useful and commodious. Several trees were scattered about, affording a comfortable shade, and the hot winds had not scorched up all vegetation.

The officers employed at Alice Springs Station were a genial, jovial lot of fellows; and when Edgar and Will had been duly introduced by Walter Hepburn, they were at once made at home. After travelling so many miles, and living on the produce of their guns and Yacka’s ingenuity, it was a treat for them once more to come across civilization. They were feasted and made much of, and the inevitable race-meeting was got up in their honour.

Edgar noticed there were a good many men about besides the officers employed on the station, and he did not like the look of some of them. They had a hang-dog expression on their faces, and a lazy, loafing way of idling about that spoke ill for the manner in which they managed to knock out a living.

‘You have some queer customers about here,’ said Edgar to Walter Hepburn.

‘You mean those fellows over yonder,’ he replied.

‘I guess you’re about right—they are queer customers. They are out-and-out “spielers,” and you generally find them loafing about in the interior wherever there is a new settlement. They are always in fairly strong force around here, and when we have races they are only too ready to make wagers which they have no intention of paying. Some of our fellows are foolish enough to bet with them, and out of sheer despair at getting up a game of cards, I have known them play with these men. Needless to say, our fellows never win. These “spielers” know too much for them. In my opinion, they are worse than the blacks, and a greater danger to settlers. Horse-stealing and swindling they are always ready for; but they are cowards when fairly tackled, and soon seek fresh fields when a place becomes too hot to hold them.’

‘Strange how such men can find occupation here,’ said Edgar.

‘Well, you see, it’s this way,’ said Walter Hepburn. ‘Settlers in a new country, where white men are scarce, and blacks are dangerous and hostile, are only too glad to give a white man a welcome. No questions are asked as to who or what the white man may be, but they take it for granted his company must be an improvement on their black, quarrelsome neighbours. I’ve known blackguards like those you see over yonder stay at a place for a week, and then clear out with the best horses and anything else they could conveniently take away.’