Adventures in Australia

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We had been some days at the station when a person arrived who had occasionally been spoken of as Mr Kimber. He acted as tutor to our host’s younger sons as he did also to another family in the neighbourhood. He was a graduate of one of our leading universities, and had been found by Mr Strong in the humble capacity of hut-keeper on a neighbouring station, a situation he was compelled to take in consequence of having expended the whole of his means. His present occupation was more in accordance with his tastes, although his salary was, I suspect, not very considerable. He was evidently not cut out for an Australian settler, for though he could manage to stick on horseback, as Hector observed, “he preferred a walk to a gallop;” while he persisted in wearing a stove-pipe hat and a swallow-tail coat, which he evidently considered a more dignified costume than the straw hat and red shirt generally worn by all ranks in the bush. He was amusing from the simplicity of his remarks, and as he was honest and well-informed, Mr Strong was really glad to retain him.

We had been expecting a visit from Bracewell, as Guy had written to him to tell him that we were still remaining with our relative, who did not appear to have any idea of leaving his station, but he had received no answer.

Mr Kimber gave two days of the week to the family of a Captain Mason, who owned the station next to Mr Strong’s. His plan was to ride over early in the morning of one day and to return late in the evening of the next.

After we had become tolerably intimate he invited me to accompany him, and to assist in teaching two of the younger boys. As I wished to become acquainted with Captain Mason, and to see his station, I readily accepted his invitation. I found a family very similar to that of Mr Strong, and quite as numerous; the girls and boys tall and lithe, but as active as crickets. The girls told me to tell my cousins that they would ride over some day to see them, as soon as those abominable bushrangers had been captured.

We started somewhat later than usual from Captain Mason’s, but the “Dominie,” as the boys called him, had frequently traversed the road, and assured me that he knew it perfectly. We pushed on, however, as fast as we could go, wishing to get in before dark, as my companion confided to me the fact that he felt not a little nervous about the bushrangers, of whose atrocious deeds the young Masons had been telling him—the murders they had committed, the huts they had attacked, and the number of people they had stuck up. I could not disprove the statements, though I believe the accounts greatly exaggerated,

and I described to him the way we had driven the fellows off by the exhibition of firmness and courage.

“All very well in daylight,” he observed; “but suppose the villains were to pop up from behind the bushes on the other side of the road, and order us to stand and deliver, and to threaten to shoot us if we attempted to draw our pistols,—and by the bye I haven’t any to draw,—what should we do?”

“Put spurs to our horses and gallop out of their way,” I answered. “They wouldn’t dare to fire, and if they did, the chances are they would miss us. We must run some danger in this country, and the risk is not nearly so great as riding after wild cattle as we have still to do, so pray do not make yourself unhappy on the subject.”

Still, I saw that my companion looked anxiously about him, especially as it began to grow dusk, immediately after which darkness came on, and we were compelled to moderate our speed for fear of getting a knock on our heads from overhanging branches, or riding against fallen logs.