THE BUSH TRACK 251 



of the original soft-footed traveller, and horses and cattle 

 are ever fond of the short-cuts which their owners 

 design. 



Here a distinct branch is made towards a river, across 

 which Nature, the first of bridge-builders, many a 

 generation ago afforded an easy, dry passage by throw- 

 ing down a huge tree. It spans from bank to bank, 

 and the wood is worn to slippery smoothness by the 

 passing of shoeless feet. Thence it leads through forest 

 and jungle and mangrove belts to another river, and 

 away south. 



The western branch keeps to forest and jungle, 

 following, generally, the ridges, for in the wet season 

 the grass lands are flooded, when the track is but a 

 silvery grey ribbon on a carpet of green. With careless 

 indecision it trends west, with here an angle and there 

 a curve, dipping and twisting, crossing gullies and creep- 

 ing up slopes. The men whose feet made it in ancient 

 days knew all the landmarks. Mostly it keeps to sound 

 ground, albeit its wanderings perpetuate wayward 

 impulses. 



Imagination may follow the blacks of bygone days 

 as they swung past a fallen tree ; where sportful youths 

 wandered a few yards to throw grass-tree spears at 

 white-ants' nests on bloodwood-trees ; where they 

 turned aside for a drink from the palm creek. Possibly 

 the track deviated to follow the run of a scrub turkey, 

 or because the boys knew of a scrub hen's mound, where 

 the rich pink eggs were raked out by the gins. It was 

 gin's work to overhaul the mounds; the boys did not 

 like to do the digging with their hands, for often little 

 snakes bedded themselves in the warm compost — 

 snakes, though they bite not to the death, make one's 

 hands big and sore. Why incur any risk when there 

 was a well-disciplined woman to take it ? There was a 



