An Outback Marriage

"I got all that mob that came our way," he said, "seven of 'em.

Yours makes eight. There's Ben after some still, and there's Tommy

Prince back at the bamboos firing at something. Firing this way,

too, damn him! Look at Ben!"

Far away on the plain, like puppets in the distance, went the

swiftly gliding figures of man and horse. In front of them dimly-seen

objects tore through the grass; every now and again out went an arm,

there was a spurt of smoke, and another buffalo fell. The blacks

and the Chinaman were away behind, gathered in a cluster, skinning

the first beast killed, while the pack-horses cropped the grass

and bit at the flies. Considine was nowhere to be seen.

"Let's go back and see what Tommy is up to," said the shooter.

"He's a hard case, is Tommy. If there's any trouble about he'll

get into it, or get somebody else into it. He'll wing one of us in

a minute, the way he's blazing. What's he firing at?"

Suddenly the festive Tommy was seen to dash hurriedly out of the

patch of bamboo, with the old original buffalo cow so close to his

horse's tail that, if the horse stumbled, the cow had him at her

mercy.

"She'll have 'im!" yelled the shooter. "Good cow! Can't she steam?

Come on, and let's see the fun!"

For a while it looked any odds on the cow; then she slackened pace,

wheeled round, and bolted back to the bamboos. They found Tommy very

excited. He had used about eighteen cartridges, and had nothing

to show for it.

"That's the most underhand cow ever I seen!" said Tommy. "She runs

into them there bamboos and pretends she's going to run right clean

through to Queensland, and when I go in after her, she wheels round

and hunts me for my life. Near had me twice, she did. Every time

I fire the old carbine, it jams, and I have to get the rod to it.

Gimme your rifle, Walter, and I'll go in and finish her."

"She must have a lead mine in her already," said the shooter. "Mind

she don't ketch you, Tommy."

Tommy went in, but couldn't find a sign of the cow. While they were

talking she had slipped along the belt of bamboos, and was then,

no doubt, waiting for a chance to rush somebody. As no one cared

to chance riding on to her in that jungle, she escaped with the

honours of war. The other shooter came up, having shot nine, and

reported that Considine had had a fall; his horse, not being used

to the country, had plunged up to his shoulders in a concealed

buffalo-wallow, and turned right over on him. Luckily, the buffalo

he was after was well ahead, and did not turn to charge him, but

he was very much shaken; when he came up, however, he insisted on

going on. They set to work to find the rest of the dead buffaloes--no

easy matter in that long grass--and all hands commenced skinning.

This job kept them till noonday, when they camped under some trees

for their midday meal, hobbling the horses. Then they rested for

an hour or two, packed the hides on the pack-horses (and heavily

loaded they were, each hide weighing about a hundredweight), and

went back to the hunt, scanning the plain carefully.