11 October 1934

BATTLE OF WATSON'S FORD 

Humorous Incident Of Early Burra Days Recalled

When the Burra copper mine was first opened the ore had to be carted to Adelaide by teams of all descriptions—donkeys, horses, and bullocks were all used. Two routes were used. One went through Waterloo, while the other ran on the east side of the Black Range and thence by way of Kapunda. This. latter route was the shorter but it was also considerably the rougher. It was not very suitable for waggons and was used by only two teamsters, in addition to pack teams. 

The teamsters in question were two fiery old Irishmen, whom we will call Casey and Kildare. Both had eight-horse teams and big waggons, the horses being worked in pairs. Being Irish they were disinclined to work in conjunction, and each tried to outdo the other in quick deliveries. It so happened that one morning in spring Kildare was going down loaded with ore, and Casey was returning with goods from Adelaide. Kildare's team had started to trot down Watson's Hill when, from the Kapunda side of the opposite hill he saw Casey's team approaching. Both saw each other about the same time and determined to race for the ford, as the first there could have a drink of nice clean water while the other would have to wait till the track was clear and then wait further for the water to clear. Discretion was thrown to the winds; the brakes were forgotten and both raced for the ford. At full canter the teams reached the ford together; their owners cursing each other fluently. Both were in a tearing rage, but they suddenly realised, that a head on crash would probably mean their deaths. They turned their teams, but hardly enough. 

In that narrow ford the backs of both waggons collided, and that stopped the teams. Each waggon smashed a rear wheel The horses stood still after the crash, and then Casey started the trouble. Grabbing his rifle, which all teamsters carried in those days to keep off tramps and to shoot game with, he loaded it and fired at Kildare. The latter ducked in time, and while Casey was reloading, Kildare secured his own rifle and rushed for the shelter of the trees on the side of the creek. He had barely reached his objective when another bullet from the enraged Casey crashed uncomfortably close to him. Then it was Kildare's turn, and Casey broke all records racing for the trees on the bank opposite his rival. The teams, thoroughly scared by the shooting, soon got into a dreadful tangle. As both men were now temporarily safe, hard thinking became the order of the day. How many bullets did his rival possess? each began to wonder, for each realised that the first man out of ammunition would lose the fight.

Casey lay behind a log and Kildare did likewise. Shots were exchanged for a while and then cartridges ran short. Both determined to shoot with effect, yet each had a fair shield and the range was just a little too far for accurate shooting. For the next three hours only four shots were fired two by each man, which left each of them with only two cartridges. At noon Casey had a shot at Kildare and sent the dirt up at his feet. When the startled Kildare moved round in his squat he exposed his head, which Casey had reckoned on. A quick shot and Kildare's hat flew off, but otherwise no damage was done. Little realising that his rival was now helpless, Kildare determined to keep up appearances, and calculating that the log sheltering Casey was hollow, he fired at it. The splinters flying in all directions scared Casey, who jumped into the air and ran for another shelter. Kildare took a running shot and likewise missed. It was now getting late in the afternoon, but both men continued to bluff well. Rifles were aimed and positions altered, but no shots were fired though tempers were still very hot. 

So intent were they watching each other that neither saw a policeman walking his horse down Watson's Hill. The constable saw the two smashed waggons and went to investigate. Then both rivals noticed him. Remaining behind their shelters, they called to him and told and retold their tale. The constable, however, was a man of considerable experience. Taking his rifle from the saddle, he walked up to Casey and took possession of his gun. He then treated Kildare similarly. Then, with both men following him he walked to the waggons and opened the breeches of both rifles. Great was their chagrin when they saw both were empty. Smashing them over the waggon wheels till, they were reduced to scrap-iron the policeman mounted his horse and left the rivals to it. 

Within a few seconds a battle royal began. Fists came into action and two strong men stood up to one another. In the end Kildare won. He reduced Casey to a bedraggled heap of aches and bruises. Then they called an armistice. Kildare, being the winner, took possession of Casey's undamaged rear waggon wheel to replace his own and gathered up the best of the harness littered round. Casey was left to his sorrows and repairs, and agreed to wait until Kildare had returned from the city with two new wheels and a set of harness, for which Casey had to meet an expenses. — 'Campfire Comrade.'

'Flying Death' Of Rajputana

The Indian cobra, although possibly the deadliest snake in the world, is not feared as much as the krait, a yard long gold and black banded reptile, which hides itself in niches where a cobra cannot get and, unlike the hooded terror, bites without warning. Once while in India I was camping with a doctor near a village in the district of Faridpur. A few mornings after we went into camp my bearer turned over in his sleep. It so happened that in his bed was a krait, which instantly bit him. We were not far from the local hospital and I rushed for help, but although in the meantime the doctor had injected a strong charge of snake bite serum into him, he died within 20 minutes. 

A few mornings later a villager rushed into our tent and, almost mad with terror, led us. to. an old hut about two miles away, which he told us was inhabited both by a bhooth (devil) as well as the largest snake in the world. Personally I was sceptical, but on arrival at the scene I saw the thickest snake I have ever set eyes upon coiled at the top of the hut inside. Apparently the brute was asleep or in a comatose state through over-eating, for it took no notice of us. The doctor called for his shotgun, took aim, and let it have both barrels just above the eyes. The effect was magical. In a flash the monster seemed to come to life. In its death struggles it made the hut rock. We made a rapid exit, and scarcely had we got into the open than the place collapsed. From a safe distance we watched the python writhe and struggle among the debris. 

A snake about which I have seen nothing written, and have heard only one or two men speak, is the flying snake, found in the desert or Rajputana. I have never seen it, but I know its effect can be deadly. We were riding one day across the sand, when an old Gujerati by my side started. 'The Flying Death,' he cried. All I could hear was a whining noise, like that made by a gigantic mosquito. I turned to ask what was the matter, but he seemed panic-stricken. 'Cover your heads,' he shouted, suiting the action to the word and throwing himself head foremost in the sand. We all did likewise, except a bald headed syce (stable man). Suddenly he shrieked, 'I am bitten,' and the whining noise could be heard dying away in the distance. We ran to him. He was white with fear, with good reason, for he was dead in half an hour.—G.F.C.

[It is difficult to understand why this particular article was included in "Real Stories of South Australia".]

Rescued From Drowning

I was standing on the river bank at Swan Reach, about 15 years ago, with my 12-months-old baby in my arms, talking to a neighbor, who was washing near the river, when one of her little boys came up to us and sat down. He was tugging away at a tooth, which he finally got out. 

We noticed that his sister, aged five, was missing, so his mother asked. 'Where is your sister?' ''Down in the river,' he replied quietly. I thought I must have heard wrongly, but he said again, 'May fell in the river.' 

I looked around and saw the child in the stream. She had just come to the surface, and the terrified mother seemed rooted to the spot. She just screamed 'My child!' My child!' 

I put my baby down by the wash bench and darted down the steep river bank, and into a boat that was tied up there. I picked the child out of the water just as her mother scrambled into the boat behind me. She frantically snatched the child from my arms, sobbing wildly. I looked at the still white face of the child, and my worst fears were shown on my face. Had we been too late after all? 

We hurried her home, where she gradually recovered. She cried weakly, but would not speak, but we knew that she was all right. I quickly made the mother a cup of tea while she changed her child's clothes, and put her to bed. 

We sat over our cup of tea, and talked of the narrow escape. Then we learned how it had happened. The children had been playing at fishing in the boat, and the little girl had reached out for a piece of weed that was floating past, and had tumbled in.— F.E.B., Mildura. 

The Cook's Secret

It was shearing time on one of the big sheep stations in the north, and the 'boss' was showing a party of visitors around. It was getting on towards lunch time, and the boss had given the cook special orders for the lunch, especially the buttered 'brownie' for which the cook, a Chinese, was famed. 

The boss told his friends about the wonderful brownie, and said that the way the cook got the butter to spread in cold weather was a marvel. 

While waiting for lunch, one of the visitors wandered away to the kitchen on his own accord. On entering, he was very puzzled to see the cook looking at him with dumb eyes, and both his cheeks very extended. Evidently something was wrong. 

So he spoke to the cook, who turned around and put what he had in his mouth on a plate. Looking, the visitor was astonished to see a big ball of butter. 

When the boss handed the special brownie around he was puzzled why he could not get one person to eat any of it. But he who had solved the secret of the cook's well-spread butter, smiled and shook his head when pressed to taste even a little bit. — 'Belona.'