BUSH HORSES 47 



Immediately we conjure up the names of Rolf 

 Boldrewood and the daring poet steeplechase- 

 rider, Adam Lindsay Gordon. 



In " Robbery Under Arms" — the best type of 

 Australian novel — the wicked hero of the tale 

 was drawn from life. Starlight, as he was called, 

 had many points of resemblance with Dick Turpin 

 and Claude Duval — all lovable scamps of a refined 

 order. 



But whoever has read Boldrewood's story of 

 life and adventure in the Bush and in the gold- 

 fields of Australia, must have been struck with 

 a certain reckless spirit that runs through the 

 book, from the opening page to the pathetic 

 end. This independence of thought and action 

 is characteristic of Englishmen who have made 

 Australia their home. 



The following is a case in point, out of 

 "Robbery Under Arms"; it refers to an inci- 

 dent! in Starlight's wild career : " Here he rode 

 on, and never opened his mouth again till we 

 began to rise the slope at the foot of Nulla 

 Mountain. When the dark fit was on him it 

 was no use talking to him. He'd either not 

 seem to hear you, or else he'd say something 

 which made you sorry for opening your mouth 

 at all. It gave us all we could do to keep along 

 with him. He never seemed to look where he 

 was going, and rode as if he had a spare neck at 

 any rate." . . . 



Adam Lindsay Gordon's melancholy poems 

 likewise breathe defiance. Although they are 

 very egotistical, there is something extremely 



