3 May 1934

HUNTING WILD HORSES IN THE NORTH 

How 'The Outlaw' Was Taken

In the early seventies when fences in the north were unknown, I was offered three 'horses' (outlaws) at a very low price. Many efforts had been made to yard these animals, but always in vain. They could be got within a short distance of a stockyard, but no farther. Time after time they had escaped. If they could not get away together, they would do so singly. In fact, one of them had been known to dive under the neck of the hunter's horse. So now they were proclaimed of horses. I bought them, but I was only to pay for those I secured, except that I was to pay for one in any case. I had made up my mind to get them. I knew it was useless to try and get them into the stockyard, so I decided to run them to an adjoining station, which was surrounded by a six wire horse paddock, with the stockyard in it. I had two splendid saddle horses, in good trim, and they were both good stayers. I had a good lad, a half-caste boy, a splendid rider who was going with me. We carried enough food to last two days. 

One Wednesday morning we started to locate the outlaws, and just before dark discovered them quietly feeding on a vast plain. It was too late to start at them that night, so quietly retiring behind some scrub, we hobbled our horses, and camped for the night. The rising sun found us ready for a start, and very soon after we came upon our quarry. At our approach they took to their heels, and were away at full gallop — in the opposite direction to the homestead and stockyard. This was what I had expected them to do. We followed them, not attempting to overtake or turn them, but simply keep them in view. Many, miles we travelled like this, and as they eased off in their pace. I made them go faster. At length a thick mallee scrub was entered and all I could see was the tail of the hindmost of them, as they travelled in single file, through the timber in front of me. We must have gone eight or ten miles like this, and then we came out on an open plain. I could see the sweat running off them, in streams. They were getting very weary, I knew we were now only a few miles from the station that had the stockyard in the horse paddock, and I was steering them for it. As soon as they saw the fence they made a mad dash for liberty, but after a hard gallop I headed them back and succeeded in getting two of them in the horse paddock. The third dashed off. I had a hard fight with the runaway, and although he was done, I could not get him towards the yard which was close handy. My boy, hearing my whip, came to my assistance and taking the lasso from his saddle, threw the noose around the outlaw's neck, and we hauled him up, and put the boy's saddle on him. The boy mounted him and stuck his spurs into his side. With my whip on his rump, we soon had the horse in the stockyard. 

Both our riding horses were knocked up, and we still had the other two outlaws to get into the yard. The station manager lent me two of his best riding horses, and again we started after the two out laws. We sighted them in the corner of the paddock, and they sighted us. Away they went, round and round the paddock. At last we got them to the yard but they would not go in, and on attempting to force them, they simultaneously turned in opposite directions and escaped. We took after one and after about an hour's hunting, the boy managed to get his lasso over the animal's head. The horse was thoroughly exhausted, so we put a pair of hobbles on him, and left him there. We then followed the other colt, and after a lot of hard galloping managed to get him in the yard. Thus ended a run of about 40 miles and I had the outlaws secure. The following day with the boy mounted on one. and the other two coupled neck to neck, I had the pleasure of getting them home. Eventually they turned out some of the best and hardiest horses I had. — 'UNOHOO,' Medindie.

Nellie 

Once in a while a soul is found shining and white among sordid surroundings. Inasmuch as Nellie, ragged, little child of the streets, was as sweet and untouched as any little six-year-old reared within a sheltered white nursery, this true story is worth telling. 

Nellie had large brown eyes that looked out from a wistfully wondering little face; and almost invariably when the superintendent of one of Adelaide's children's playgrounds arrived with her keys, she found the child waiting to get in. 

"Mum won't let me in at home till night time, so I don't go home to lunch," Nellie explained upon being questioned. 

Each morning after that the superintendent shared her own sandwiches with a ragged little guest. She gathered that Nellie had never known her 'Dad,' and that "lots of men came to see Mum", and sometimes they brought Nellie lollies. 

The child did not attempt to join the other children at the playground in their games, but amused herself on the sand-heap, or by singing softly to herself as she swayed to and fro on the swing.

Quite unexpectedly, one day Nellie fell over in a fit. The alarmed superintendent sent a boy post haste for the child's mother, and was dumbfounded when he returned with the message, "Just turn her on her back, and leave her in the shade. She'll be all right." An indignant young women carried a limp little girl home to her mother that evening, and told that same mother in no uncertain terms what she thought of her. 

Nellie was a most unselfish child. One day, in the act of unwrapping a chocolate which had been given to her, she exclaimed, hastily wrapping it again, "Oh, I'll save it for mum." 

"No you will not, dear," she was told decidedly. "It is your chocolate and you eat it." 

Nellie pointed a grubby finger at the superintendent. "You forgot, and called me dear." "I did not forget," she was told gently, "for you are my dear little friend." 

"Am I really and truly your friend?" the child asked incredulously. "Of course you are, dear," a misty-eyed young woman assured her. 

Came a day early in the winter when Nellie did not appear as usual at the playground gates. She had left behind her the previous evening an old red hat she had worn, which the superintendent hung on a peg to await her. 

Several days passed and she was considering calling to enquire for her little friend, when one of the other children announced that "Nellie Blank died last night in the Children's Hospital." 

So Nellie, little, unwanted child of the streets, went to find another Friend, leaving behind her a torn old hat and the memory of a loving little heart.— M. E. Maitland, Port Pirie.

'Murder' In The North

At first it appeared to be murder, grim, callous, and premeditated. It was committed near a northern town. Later events proved it but part of a skilfully planned, scheme to defraud an insurance company. 

A well-known married man of the town suddenly disappeared. Then one day charred bones were found about two chains from a fence on a nearby sheep station. The police were called in. 

The bones were too much burned to be identified as those of a human being. But a ring and the metal fittings of a saddle and bridle were recognised as belonging to the missing man. 

There were two sets of boot prints leading from the fence to where the remains were found. Near one set of tracks were those of a horse. In theory it was evident that the murderer had met his victim near the fence. Together they had walked, one leading the horse, to where the crime was committed apparently. After slaying his victim the murderer had released the horse. He did his best then towards burning the body of the victim and the harness of the horse. How he himself left the place, or which way he went, remained unsolved. There were not any traces of his departure. 

Everything pointed to this being the perfect crime. An insurance company paid the grief stricken widow the amount for which her husband had been insured. 

Sometime later, however. Dame Rumor got busy. Police and insurance officials became suspicious. Either reincarnation was a proven fact—the man bad a perfect double— or he was never killed. Somebody answering his description was found in a secluded little outback town. 

Police enquires followed, and evidence showed the murder mystery to be a hoax. The missing man had ridden up to the fence, carrying a bag of bones, an extra pair of boots, and some old rags. Dismounting, he had led the horse across to the chosen spot. After releasing the animal he had burned the bones, the rags, the harness and the boots he had been wearing. But he left sufficient personal belongings intact at the spot to mislead the police. 

Donning the extra pair of boots, a size larger than the ones he approached in, he had walked backwards to the fences, thus creating the impression that two people had walked away from it. Then, standing on the bottom wire of, the fence, and holding the top for balance, he had travelled some distance to a running stream. The rest was simple. By walking through the water he had completely obliterated all traces of his departure. 

His good wife had collected the insurance money and had paid him a share.

— 'Hiccups,' Spalding.

EARLY NEWSPAPER RIVALRY

In the early days of South Australia, keen newspaper rivalry existed, which was none the less keen because the three papers, the 'Register,' 'Chronicle,' and 'Southern Australian' were published weekly. In 1840, the 'Register' complained to their columns that both the 'Chronicle' and the 'Southern Australian' had copied, with acknowledgment, the speeches at a public dinner to the Governor. 

The 'Chronicle,' we are informed, took the earliest opportunity of acknowledging, not only that the report was copied from the 'Register,' but that a portion of the type was also lent to them from the 'Register' office. 

The 'Southern Australian,' however, acknowledged their borrowing in the following paragraph:— 'We regret that we did not last week acknowledge the source from whence we derived the report of the dinner to his Excellency— it was a mere oversight, which we hasten to correct. We copied it nearly verbatim from the 'Register,' and the known incorrectness of the report must therefore rest with that journal! ' — H.