An Outback Marriage

"There, you swab," said the old man, "that'll larn you to break

another time." Then he took once more his place in the patrol

round the mob. They circled and eddied and pushed, always staring

angrily at the riders. Suddenly a big, red bullock gave a snort

of defiance, and came out straight towards Carew. He stopped once,

shook his head ominously, and came on again. One of the gins dashed

up with the whip; but the bullock had evidently decided to take

all chances, and advanced on his foes at a trot.

"Choot him, that feller!" screamed the gin to Carew. "You choot

him! He bin yan away! No more stop! Choot him!"

Carew lugged out his revolver, and tried to pull his horse to a

standstill, but the wary old veteran knew better than to be caught

standing by a charging bullock; just as Carew fired, he plunged forward,

with the result that the bullet went over the mob altogether, and

very nearly winged Charlie, who was riding on the far side. Then

the bullock charged in earnest; and Carew's horse, seeing that

if he wished to save human life he must take matters into his own

hands, made a bolt for it. Carew half-turned in the saddle, and

fired twice, only making the black boys on the far side cower down

on their horses' necks. Then the horse took complete charge, and

made off for the scrub with the bullock after him, and every animal

in the mob after the bullock.

Nothing in the world could have stopped them. Considine and

Charlie raced in front, alongside Carew, cracking their whips and

shouting; the blacks flogged the coachers up with the wild cattle;

but they held on their way, plunged with a mighty crash into the

thick timber, and were lost. No horseman could ride a hundred yards

in that timber at night. Coachers and all were gone together, and

the dispirited hunters gathered at the edge of the scrub and looked

at each other.

"Well, Mister, you couldn't stop him," said the old man.

"I'm afraid I made--rather a mess of things, don't you know," said

the Englishman. "I thought I hit him the second time, too. Seemed

to be straight at him."

"I think you done very well to miss us! I heard one bullet whiz past

me like a scorpyun. Well, it can't be helped. Those old coachers

will all battle their way home again before long. Gordon, I vote

we go home. They're your cattle now, and you'll have to come out

again after 'em some day, and do a little more shootin'. Get a suit

of armour on you first, though."

As they jogged home through the bright moonlight, they heard loud

laughter from the blacks, and Carew, looking back, found the fat

gin giving a dramatic rehearsal of his exploits. She dashed her

horse along at a great pace, fell on his neck, clutched wildly at

the reins, then suddenly turned in her saddle, and pretended to

fire point-blank at the other blacks, who all dodged the bullet.

Then she fell on the horse's neck again, and so on ad lib.