At night matters were more cheerful. After dark, when the cattle were hemmed in—they were tired enough to rest peacefully—Guy had many a pleasant talk by the glowing watch-fires. This entertainment came, after enjoying the evening meal, with a zest which only youth and open-air journeying combined can furnish.
As for Gerald O’More, he examined and praised and enjoyed everything. He liked the long, slow, apparently aimless day’s travel, the bivouac of the night, the humours of the drovers. He ‘foregathered’ with all kinds of queer people who visited the camp, and learned their histories. He felt much disappointed that there were no wild beasts except the native dog and native bear (koala), neither of which had sufficient confidence in themselves to assume the offensive.
The next week was one of sufficient activity to satisfy all the ardent spirits of the party. In the first place, the cattle had to be driven across the river, the which they resisted with great vehemence, never before having seen a stream of the same magnitude. However, by the aid of an unlimited quantity of whip-cracking, dogging, yelling, and shouting, the stronger division of the herd was forced and hustled into the deep, swift current. Here they bravely struck out for the opposite side, and in a swaying, serpentine line, followed by the weaker cattle, struggled with the current until they reached and safely ascended the farther bank.
CHAPTER XXII
INJUN SIGN
Having crossed their Rubicon, and being fairly committed to the task of exploration, a provisional halt was called, and arrangement for further progress made. One by one the other drovers arrived, and having successively swum the river, guarded or ‘tailed’ their cattle until the plan of campaign was fully matured.
Duncan Cargill was sent back with the team. The contents of the waggon, which, in view of this stage, had been economised as to weight, were distributed among the pack-saddles. Such apportionment also took place among the other encampments. Dick Evans as usual distinguished himself by the neat and complete manner in which he arranged his packs.
Wheeled carriages being impossible because of the nature of the country, it is obvious that nothing but the barest necessaries can be conveyed—flour, tea, sugar, camp-kettles large enough to boil beef, billy-cans, frying-pans, quart-pots, axes, and the ruder tools, with the blankets of the party, are all that can be permitted. Meat—indifferent as to quality, but wholesome and edible—they had with them. Each man carried his gun, on the chance of a sudden attack by blacks. It would be obviously unreasonable to ask the enemy to wait until the pack-horses came up, even supposing that guns could be safely carried in that fashion. So each man rode with his piece slung carbine-fashion, and if he had such weapon, his pistols in the holsters of the period.
Reasonable-sized, but by no means luxurious, tents were carried, in which those who were off watch could repose, also as shelter against rain, if such a natural phenomenon should ever again occur in Australia.
A few days sufficed to make all necessary arrangements, during which Hubert Warleigh’s prompt decisions extorted universal respect.
‘The country is partly open, as you see, for another hundred miles,’ said he, ‘but after that, turns very thick and mountainous. The Myalls will soon be on our tracks, and may go for us any time. What we have to do, is to be ready to show fight with all the men we can spare. The feed’s mending as we go on.’