‘Because the mountain was like the side of a house above the road, and fell straight down below five hundred feet, like a sea-cliff. There was just that chain or two of level track, and that was all. I goes up to the corporal, “I say, mate,” says I, “can’t you get your canaries off the track here for about a quarter of an hour, and let my mob of cattle pass?”
‘He looks at me, turning his eyes, but not his head, and keeps on marching up and down like a blessed image; all he says was, “Make an application to the officer in command,” says he.
‘So I looks about, and presently I sees a slight-built young fellow, in a shell jacket, lounging about a tent.
‘“’Scuse me, captain,” says I, “will you order your men to leave off their work (work, thinks I) and keep the road clear while I get my cattle past? They’re awful wild, and won’t face the track with all these chaps in yellow and black and leg-irons. They never see a road gang before.”
‘“What extraordinary cattle for New South Wales!” said the young fellow; “I should say there was plenty of room between the men and the hill. Can’t move her Majesty’s troops nor the industrious gang before six o’clock.”
‘By——, I was mad. If we couldn’t get the cattle by with the light, we ran the risk of their breaking before we got to camp and having another night like last night over again. It was hard! I ground my teeth as I went back and passed the corporal, walking up and down with his confounded musket.
‘When I got past him I saw the cattle staring and looking hard, drawn up a good deal closer. The two boys were very sulky at the notion of another night watching and riding, with scarce anything to eat for twenty-four hours. So was I, when I thought of the long cold hours if we didn’t make our camp.
‘Suddenly an idea came into my head; I see something as give me a notion. “Tommy Toke,” says I, “you look out to back up and keep the tail of the mob going, if they make a rush. Tin Pot, you keep on the upper side, and look out they don’t break back. They’re a-going to make a —— charge.”
‘What started me on this plan all of a sudden, was this wise. We had an old blue half-bred buffalo cow and her son, a four-year-old black bullock, in the mob; he followed his mother, as they will do sometimes. He was a regular pebble, and the old cow hadn’t been in a yard since he was branded. She was the biggest tigress ever I see; that’s sayin’ something. Well, I see the old Roosian paw the ground now and then, and keep drawing towards the corporal, as was marchin’ up and down same as he was in Buckingham Palace.
‘I keep watching the old cow drawin’ and drawin’, and pawin’ and pawin’. He thought she might be a milker. Suddenly she gives a short bellow, makes for the corporal at the rate of forty miles an hour, followed by the black bullock, and the mob behind him.