Squatters and Stations 25 



ness of their stock-horses, horse and man some- 

 times go down before the mad rush of some beast 

 seized with a sudden and unaccountable fury. 

 When camped with cattle at night-time, the men 

 have to be prepared for sudden stampedes, which 

 the stockmen account for by stating that bullocks 

 see ghosts. 



The stockman himself, in his characteristic 

 dress of loose shirt, tight riding-breeches, and 

 cabbage-tree hat, with the long stock whip coiled 

 round his shoulders, is one of the most picturesque 

 figures of the Australian bush. His usefulness is 

 measured by his horsemanship and his fearless- 

 ness among cattle, for unless he possesses both 

 these attributes in the highest degree, his value 

 as a cattle-man is practically nil. 



Station life, however, is not one long round of 

 work and sleep. On a sheep-station such as I 

 have described, a day's hard work in the saddle 

 ends with a refreshing shower bath and a pleasant 

 family dinner. Sometimes a neighbour drops in, 

 and after dinner the men smoke on the cool, broad 

 veranda in the pleasant dusk. The wind sighs 

 through the big she-oaks, and from the belt of 

 tall gum trees by the creeks comes the doleful 

 note of the mopoke. Great flying-foxes flap 

 silently down to the peach trees in the orchard, 

 and tiny bats wheel and turn in the clear air, 

 hawking the plentiful insects. One by one the 

 stars come out, until the violet sky blazes with 

 them. Across the lake the curlews are wailing, but 



