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A Bit Of A Duffer 3
Ronald George Hunter Australia (Verified User) Posts 4314 Dogs 0 / Races 0 26 Aug 2019 06:39
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But they grew stern eyed from long days, and long nights in the saddle, constant alarms. The big mob would not settle down. The black bull roamed among them urging them back to their own country, now day by day drifting farther away to the rear. His swishing tail, his plaintive moanings, his shaggy head and questioning eyes ever turning back to the northeast, had the mob on their toes time and time again, especially at night. The watch had always to be on the alert, the sleeping men in the camp ever ready at the instant to leap into the saddle to prevent a big stampede back, always back. To shoot the beast, meant that someday the carcass might be found a lone musterer, might ride onto it within days, for such is the luck of the game. To let him go back now, even if he would, would mean that, if the mob had been missed, swiftly riding station men would follow back along the tracks. Cursing evilly. Red led the mob on, on across the Birdsville track, on across the Georgina, and on into no-man's land. Then he turned directly south. To the left was now the Birdsville track, near a hundred miles away, to their right the desert. They were riding down between the track and the desert, this was no-man's land.' They breathed easier then. Took it easy, slouched over their saddles and smoked as they rode along, Cuthroat came out with a rough joke now and then, Scowler gazed at the skies, as if he saw something there. The Brander rode idly, gazing along the mob as they poked along, flicking the tips of their ears from the flies. Long Jim was an artist with green hide. At night by the campfire with deft fingers he plaited whips, halters and bridles, that would have earned him a good living in any township.
By now, far back northeast the stations would have begun to muster. Particular stations would discover a few hundred head of prime beasts had disappeared from the run. They might, granted time and circumstance compare news, find that all told a thousand prime head had disappeared. There would be a swift saddling up then and swift riding, off to cut tracks towards the east and southeast, and the hungry markets there, also hurrying news to isolated Police posts. They would search far to the southeast, fully expecting the mob going towards the markets there. No-man's land was the long fifty to a hundred mile wide strip of arid country, fringing the desert, which was now a flower garden. There were colored creepers, Crowfoot and Pigweed, Parakelia and the sturdy Geraniums The Needlebush flats were a rich grey under saltbush, Bluebush and thick herbage. The drying beds of baby lakes were intensely green under clover. What a transforamation from the dying desert, before the heavy rains. Red's grim face, almost grew a smile, he had picked the right time. After seven years! The break had come, and what a break. the best rainy season for fifty years. Easily now they rode, contentedly the big mob mooched along ever to the south, Except for the black bull, again and again they had to turn him back into the mob. They were quite safe now, so Red shot the black bull. A few days later. Blue was rooting at the root of a dead bush for some kindling to boil the quartpots. A black snake sank it's fangs into his wrist. He died within twenty minutes. They pushed on, day following day, under a cloudless sky, around late afternoon, Red who was in the lead, pulled his horse around to the crys from Cuthroat, the rest of the horsemen rode into the mob towards the commotion. From the ringing center, five black figures suddenly sprang up, they had been gourging on a freshly speared steer, they had gourged to their utmost, and had fallen asleep in the clover. From different points, the horsemen were converging on to their camp, the hunters were visable from the mounted men's horses, and now they surrounded them. Normaly, the loss of a single steer was not too frowned upon, but suddenly, Red rose in the saddle pointed his rifle and fired, the rest followed suit, and soon all the hunters were dead. In Red's mind, dead men tell no tales. They buried the bodies deep, they and their spears, their wommeras and their charms, then rode the packhorses over the graves, to blot out the trace of their murderous deed. But, unknown to them, they had overlooked a little boy, who had awoken at the sounds of shots, and had laid there shocked and frightened, until they had rode on.
Tor Janes Australia (Verified User) Posts 10018 Dogs 16 / Races 0 27 Aug 2019 21:50
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I dare say that little boy will be looking for revenge!