The opportunity soon occurred. A small lot of some fifty or sixty head appeared about a half-mile from the road. Away went Parklands with Eachin and Mr. Neuchamp backing up. After a sharp ring or two the cattle stood with the horsemen around them. To Mr. Parklands’ mortification and Brandon’s wild delight, everything being plainly visible from the waggon, a huge coarse-horned, dun-coloured bullock singled out and ‘went for’ Ernest without more ado. The appearance of the brute was appalling, and his intention so obvious that Mr. Neuchamp did not hesitate to turn and fly across the plain for his life. The cob, though a fair roadster, was not constructed for violent exercise at short notice. He held on gallantly, but bos ferox gained perceptibly on him. At the half-mile end his horns were level with the cob’s quarters, and Mr. Neuchamp had concluded to throw himself off and trust to the brute’s continuing his mad career, when the cob, feeling that the game was up, stopped short, throwing his rider over his head. The bullock hurled past them with a snort of wrath and defiance, continuing his headlong course over the plain, in search of the first congenial scrub. When Parklands came up Mr. Neuchamp was gazing at his horse, which stood with its legs wide apart panting, with streams of sweat running down his flanks and even his face. His ears were dangling limply, and he looked very much indeed as if he were going to cry.
‘Really, Parklands,’ said poor Neuchamp, ‘if that is a specimen of a Rainbar beast, I can well understand your saying that they will not get out of your way.’
‘D—n the brute!’ quoth Sparks; ‘he does not belong to the run at all. Didn’t you see the JS on his quarter? He is one of those infernal scrub-danglers from the Lachlan come across to get a feed. I’ll shoot the ill-conditioned wretch if ever I come across him again.’
Upon being assured both by Brandon and Parklands that this was really the state of the case, Ernest continued his inspection of the remainder of the mob, with which he was well satisfied. Not to risk any further contretemps, Parklands then suggested a return to the known dangers of the waggon. This also suited the cob, who looked as if he had carried all his friend’s money in a race and lost it.
‘Ten miles from Rainbar,’ sang out Parklands. The words had hardly left his lips when the fore part of the waggon sprang into the air.
‘Hang on behind!’ shouted Brandon; and another minute saw Sparks and Jem Fuller fasten on to the hind axle, backing for their lives. ‘Man the horses, Eachin! Jem, you cut a straight sapling while we rouse out the saddle-straps for a splice.’
On inspection the pole was found to have snapped about a foot from the fore-carriage, upon which the broken stump, catching the ground, had turned that important part of the mechanism under the waggon, causing the alarming jolt. The pole being ‘fished’ with a pine sapling and numberless saddle-straps, the remaining ten miles were safely accomplished rather under the hour, with the middle of the mended pole trailing in the dust.
They were heartily welcomed at Rainbar by Mr. Brigalow, the overseer, who produced some good whisky, and with an invention of his own, called a geebung, a fair imitation of soda water was concocted, in which all present drank success to the purchaser.
On the morning after their arrival at Rainbar no time was lost by the restless Parklands, who was astir and alive to the utmost possible extent at daylight. Mr. Neuchamp, too excited to sleep during the night, had fallen asleep before dawn. He had but dozed off, it appeared to him, and now here was Parklands rousing up everybody, catching horses, whistling to the dogs, swearing at the black boys, throwing missiles at Brandon’s door, and generally making as much noise as a dozen ordinary people. Where work of any general nature is on foot in the bush, breakfast is the first important stage, being indispensable, as, whatever other meals may be partaken of provisionally or left to chance, human nature urgently cries out for one ‘square meal,’ pour commencer. The cook therefore came in for his share of intimidation and criticism from this terrible early bird.
Eventually the whole party found themselves assembled for breakfast at the comparatively early hour of 5.30 A.M., while through the unglazed open windows they could see the partially filled horse-yard, in which stood every available screw and stock-horse on the place.