The tribe sat down and began to eat the sugar, while we departed as quietly as possible; but as soon as we were out of sight we raced for our lives. Once out on the plain, we could see the blacks doing their best to catch up to us. We were about fourteen miles from the home station, and never shall I forget that race for life.
When the bullocks showed signs of slackening their speed, we urged the poor brutes on as best we could. A run for life along a good metalled road of to-day would be no laughing matter, but what it was then, through the wild bush, only one who has experienced it can know.
We raced for seven miles, and crossed the Yarriambiac Creek, now called Longerenong, and had a straight run to the station. Our speed was too much for the tribe, althougha dozen or so of the younger ones held on till we came in sight of home.
W e ar r iv ed at Nor th Br ighton without fur ther adventures, and found all well, no blacks having been seen at the station during our absence. Every one was delighted and thankful to see us back, and to get the food supplies, especially the tea and sugar, which were thought great luxuries.
Author.-The passage is taken from the diary of Mr. Samuel Carter, whose father was an early settler in the Wimmera, which was then (in the early forties) a part of the Port Phillip district of New South Wales. The events described took place near Longerenong (see atlas).
General Notes.-Jim Crow was the king of the tribe. "North Brighton"was the name of Mr. Carter"s selection near Longerenong. Were the blacks fairly treated by early settlers in general? Recall instances of their kindness to lost explorers.
Lesson 3
WOOD
I love the smell of drying wood, Its fragrance is so clean and good. I think of little kitchens warm,Their windows battened from the storm; And safe wee homes against the snow, With cheerful firesides aglow.
I think of drift-wood clean and high, Piled up in little rows to dry;The smell of cedar on the air,
By shining beaches warm and bare; Strange drift-wood of a hundred lands, Picked up by little children"s hands.
I think of tables gladly spread
With flaky loaves of home-made bread,
Of golden honey in a pot,
And steaming suppers rich and hot, With lamplight yellow as the sun, And happiness when day is done.
I think of sprouted wheat and soil,
Of wide brown fields where horses toil, Of pastures green with quiet trees,And little children on their knees.
Life"s common things are sweet and good,
Like drifting smoke and drying wood.
- Edna Jaques
Author.-Edna Jaques. No information about the author is available. Can you learn anything about her from her poem?
General Notes.-Make a brief list of all the things thought of by thewriter. Notice the picture in each stanza. Draw the one you like best. Can you see how one picture leads on to the next? How is each connected with wood?
Choose a smell you like (the smell of gum-trees, of soup-in-the-pot, and so on), and then make a list of the pictures that come into your mind during the next two or three minutes.
Lesson 4
AT THE FLOODED CREEk
It happened that they crossed a creek one afternoon. Stan laughed at the word "creek." It was just a wider depression of soft sand, twisting across the almost level plain, fringed in places with gnarled old gum-trees. Dick explained that in Central Australia the word "creek" is applied to any bed where water would flow if it ever rained hard enough.
"It"s just the natural drainage-channel, that"s all," he said. "You"d think it could rain steadily for a year on this sandy soil without any of it running off, wouldn"t you?"Stan agreed. The country was so hungry-looking that he wondered how cattle could possibly live there.
"You"d be amazed at its fertility," went on Dick. "Say we had a good solid thunder-storm here to-day. In a week you"d see a carpet of green all over the plain. The seeds are there all right; they"re just waiting for a chance to germinate.
"And the curious thing about these creeks, which amuse you so much, is that they sometimes flow a banker through country where no rain has fallen. They are often of enormous length, and good rains in, say, Queensland mightcause such a creek as we crossed this afternoon to flow full for a week. Then it might easily be dry for a whole year. A couple of days before you joined us, a blackfellow from the north told me that rain was expected over the Gulf of Carpentaria country, so you might have the bad luck to see something of the kind before we reach Narrawing.""Bad luck, did you say?" asked Stan in surprise.
"Yes. Bad luck. It would be the best of good luck to have a few inches of quiet rain on this country, but a flooded creek is no good to us, and it"s a terrible job getting cattle over."Dick proved to be correct. That night, just after the cattle-watches were arranged and the men had settled down for the night, a strange blackfellow stole up to the fire and stood on the other side, respectfully waiting till the white men should tell him he could deliver his message. Dick evidently knew the man.
"You, Larry?" he asked. " You come longa Dundoonda, eh?""Yah. Me come longa Dundoonda aw-right." The man grinned like a child, pleased at being recognized by a white man.
"What name?" (What do you want?) asked Dick, handing the black a stick of tobacco.
"Big mob water come down longa Dry Creek," said the native.
"It"s just what I feared," Dick explained to Stan. "Dry Creek is only a few miles ahead, and it lies across our track to Narrawing. We"re late as it is, or I"d wait till the flood went by. You good fella," he turned to the native. " Me give you plenty tucker." He carried out his promise immediately, and the blackfellow backed away into the darkness, well pleased with his reward.
Next morning, instead of moving the cattle off camp in the first grey light of dawn, Dick and Stan rode ahead to investigate Dry Creek, leaving orders to shepherd the cattle quietly in whatever feed could be found.