96 NOTES OF TRAVEL 
horse I rode missed the hole, and I escaped without a ducking. 
On a memorable occasion some years later I was less fortunate ; 
with a couple of hands I was taking some cattle from the coast 
to a station’on the Dawson. We had deluges of rain as we 
went up the Calliope River, and on the following day had to 
get over the many crossings of Rainbow Creek, which was 
running strong, and in places pretty deep. The last crossing 
of the day was more formidable than any of the others. It 
was below the junction of Rainbow Creek with the Callide, 
and the doubled volume of water looked uninviting enough 
for anything. The bed of the creek was full of tea trees, 
and only a narrow way had been cleared as a drayroad. 
Fortunately, the stream here was not very swift, and the 
tall horse I was riding took me over with only a short swim. 
As soon as I returned we forced the cattle over; then we 
followed. My stockman, Jack McKenna, leading the horse 
which carried our spare clothes, blankets and provisions ; 
but when we reached deep water, my pack horse refused to 
swim, and as he floated down with the stream, Jack had to 
let go the halter. An overhanging branch soon caught the 
pack, and presently old Sandy’s legs came to the surface a 
little below the obstruction. When he rolled over right 
way up again, the pack-saddle and all had disappeared ! 
That night we stopped with good old John Sutton, at 
the Callide station ; he had for a time given up his spiritual 
vocation, and taken to the business of squatter. During 
the evening, I wore such of his garments as met the necessities 
of the occasion, and dried at a roasting fire the only clothes 
I had left. What a blessed thing it was to have them 
beautifully dry in the morning, but Well we got away 
with the cattle in good time, and I rode ahead to see how the 
creek was at the bottom of the paddock. It was running very 
strong, and the backwater had filled a small gully which 
joined it; but [I had often ridden up and down this road, 
and the gully at this point was shallow; the bridle track, 
too, was plain enough, and had been lately used ; I followed 
it therefore with confidence, but only to find that the rain 
had washed away the crossing. The horse I rode carried 
me ashore without difficulty, but my clothes, from above my 
waist to the soles of my feet, were completely saturated. 
My old friend, Morton, of the Prairie station, was just nine 
