VII 
RETURN TO GEORGETOWN 
91 
as philosophically as I could, and spent the rest of the 
afternoon with my painting. 
We were to have started early next morning on our 
homeward way, but Jackey’s horse had incontinently 
taken to his heels and kept that darkie amused for 
three solid hours. I had given Mrs. S. a strong dose of 
salt and water to stem the tide of alcohol. She was 
passive enough to take it “ if I insisted,” and with a 
majestic sweep, finished it off, for the sake of the 
“ sunstroke ” from which she assured me she was 
suffering. 
We took a different route on the return journey, 
crossing another branch of the Gilbert River, where the 
ground for miles was lumpy and stony, and we went 
along at a jog-trot, eggs-to-market pace. The horses 
(which I had hired in place of our prancing steeds) 
were solid and trustworthy, but years of backaches 
seemed concentrated into that one day’s journey. I 
sat sideways, I leant backwards, then forwards, but all 
in vain, and at last had to resign myself to the 
monotony and perpetual see -saw, bone - dislocating 
motion. Joyfully I encamped for our last night’s 
meal, and with a sense of satisfaction difficult to 
describe hailed the lights of Georgetown next even- 
ing. As we crossed the river two men were being 
brought in by the police, handcuffed, for “ duffing ” 
cattle. This is rather a favourite and profitable amuse- 
ment (as long as they don’t get caught) among a 
certain class of men. ' 
Another day of quiet and we started at sunrise on 
our way to Herberton, a journey that was not devoid 
of interest ; our horses were, from the long rest, even 
Joe allowed, a bit fresh, but he assured me they would 
“ steady down.” They had, however, no such intention, 
and the first sharp crack of the double-thonged whip 
