THE MALLEE COUNTRY 89 



flying machines. They made a loud buzzing noise, and 

 travelled so swiftly that it was not easy to make a 

 capture. However, after chasing a dozen vainly, I 

 brought down a fine specimen, and imprisoned it in 

 a wooden matchbox. It proved to be a species of 

 Buprestid, nearly two inches in length. Preserved 

 in formalin, this "aeroplane" beetle is a souvenir of 

 days in the Mallee. 



An excursion in the direction of Murrayville was 

 not fruitful so far as natural history was concerned, 

 but enabled me to see more of home life in the back- 

 blocks. The sun was so fierce that my head, though 

 protected by a broad-brimmed hat, throbbed painfully, 

 and I was glad when, stopping at a cottage, we were 

 invited to afternoon tea. We were not ushered into 

 an elegant drawing-room to sit on spindle-legged 

 chairs, nor were Dresden China cups handed round 

 on a silver tray. No, we entered a rough room, sat, 

 one on a box, the other on a backless chair, and drank 

 from bush cups. Bare-legged children, instead of 

 daintily clad women, hovered around and shared in 

 the tea and "tucker." The eldest son, a youth of 

 eighteen, had met with an accident working on the 

 selection, and lay on a bed of suffering. The air was 

 stifling, and he was tormented by flies and mosquitoes, 

 but he did not complain; on the contrary, he spoke 

 cheerfully, and told his mother that he was "all right." 

 They are made of stern stuff, some of these pioneers, 

 who tame the wilderness. The men, young and old, 

 endure hardness, and the women are heroic. Here 

 was a mother, who had to do the housework and pre- 

 pare meals, besides attending to a sick son and a flock 

 of young children. Yet she bustled about with a 

 smiling face, to provide chance visitors with refresh- 

 ment. 



In the Mallee I crossed more than one humble 

 threshold to stand on bare earth. Some of the small 

 houses are built almost entirely of galvanised iron, 



