BUSH HORSES 43 



more forcible than polite. When the Boss gave 

 orders for all hands to start off on a long expedi- 

 tion, in order to bring the cattle away from the 

 farthest end of the run, all packed their swag, 

 and, after a hurried breakfast, lit their pipes and 

 adjourned to the stock-yard, taking with them 

 their saddles and bridles. The Bush horses, 

 which had already been driven up, galloped 

 wildly round the enclosure, raising clouds of dust 

 from the sandy plain. They laid back their ears 

 significantly, and, swerving round, suddenly came 

 to a standstill, suspiciously sniffing the air. 

 Whenever a black boy stealthily and coaxingly 

 approached them with a bridle, they would start 

 off on a fresh stampede, squealing, biting, and 

 kicking furiously at one another. The sharp 

 cracks from the long stock-whips kept the horses 

 in the corner of the yard, and eventually each one 

 was caught in turn, the bridle slipped quickly on, 

 and led out. Next, the heavy saddles, weighing 

 two stone a-piece, were put on also very quietly, 

 and the girths tightened up. Immediately the 

 horses felt the weight of their riders they started 

 bucking, and their repeated efforts were often 

 rewarded by a horseman falling prostrate amid 

 roars of unsympathetic laughter. 



Strange as it may appear, station hands and 

 squatters grow fond of the Bush, and are in 

 sympathy with those who value fresh air and 

 manly exercise above comfort and monetary con- 

 siderations. It is not a run replete with every 

 luxury that I am about to describe. Country 

 seats exist around Melbourne and Sydney. But 



