30 May 1935

DROVERS' FIGHT THAT NEARLY ENDED FATALLY 

Battle For Feed And Water For Sheep

When two drovers are on the same track and feed is scarce, many are the stratagems they resort to in order to outwit each other. Should their sheep become mixed a row usually follows. 

It was soon after shearing, and Houston's Point station was sending off its surplus of about 3,000 sheep to market. They were in charge of Henry Little, one of the finest drovers in the north, who knew all the best tracks and camps from one end of South Australia to the other. 

The owner of the station arranged to meet little on Stedman's Reserve, about 60 miles away, and there give him further instructions with regard to the sheep. Some were to be trucked to Peterborough and others sold in the markets on the way south. 

It took Little some time to travel that big mob on his own the 60 odd miles to the reserve, as he took full advantage of what feed was to be got. Three thousand sheep were in his charge, and he was being well paid to keep them in good condition. 

About 12 miles from the reserve he noticed from a hilltop a huge cloud of dust rising in a westerly direction. He quickly realised what that meant. Another mob, and a big one at that, was heading for the reserve as well. It would be a race. The first to reach it would have the water and the best feed as well all the way south. 

That 12 miles would have taken three days under ordinary travelling conditions, but Little determined to cover the distance in two. 

Apparently the other drover had similar ideas, for he was noticed moving his sheep off at the same time that Little did early next morning. Little's dogs were foot sore and his horses tired, but he shooed his sheep and hooled his dogs for all he was worth till nightfall. 

Next morning he was out earlier than before, but his rival, now in plain view, was at it before him. The sheep hung back, but the dogs were kept busy, and the two big mobs moved slowly onwards. 

Misfortune came Little's way early in the day. Just when his sheep were moving nicely, a tail wind sprang up and the heavy cloud of dust his sheep stirred up hung around and followed him, slowing his mob up badly; while his rival, who was also working single handed, had his sheep driving into the wind, which suited them. 

Little was a game man, but the odds seemed against him. He very near killed himself and his dogs, but his rival slowly gained, and in the early afternoon both mobs were less than a mile from the reserve when his boss, Jim Houston, overtook him. The wind was dropping a little, and after a quick exchange of words Jim rode up to the head of the mob with a dog, ran off a couple of hundred of the leaders, and started to drive them as fast as possible towards the water troughs. 

Great was his surprise, when, as the dust cleared, he saw another man on horseback doing the same thing with the other mob. It was sheer stupidity on both men's part to race their sheep at this stage, as a box up was certain, the sheep having scented the water. However, both were thinking of themselves, and both lost their tempers when they realised what was likely to happen. The sheep they were driving needed no encouragement. They ran as one for the long chain of troughs, and in a few minutes were hopelessly boxed. 

Language, most abusive, rent the air as the men met. In a few seconds the only argument of the outback was in full progress. Both men, however, kept to their saddles, and, riding up to one another, commenced hammering and punching as openings presented themselves. 

The unfortunate horses they were riding were bumped into one an other, and jerked on the bits, their riders being fighting mad for the moment. Savage punches were exchanged, and in a fit of passion the stranger pulled a stirrup from the saddle and swung it at Jim Houston. The blow was parried by the latter, who warded it off with his arm, and, grabbing the stirrup leather as it hit him, he gave it a savage wrench. His opponent, with only one stirrup to balance with, was caught off his balance and pulled from the saddle. 

As he fell to the ground his frightened horse kicked him on the head, inflicting a terrible gash. Jim Houston was on the ground in an instant, as he could see that his rival was seriously injured. He glanced around, and, too late, he saw the remainder of his sheep racing for the water. The other mob was well there, and, had he been able to, he would have waited his turn. 

As it was, Little was unable to guess what had happened, and being unable to see on ac count of the dust, had concluded that Houston had his leaders to the water well ahead of the other mob. With the thousands of sheep now thoroughly boxed, they were given no further thought. 

The injured man needed help immediately, and, without any delay, Little's covered cart was emptied of its pots, pans, water tins, skins, and netting. Houston's horse was harnessed in to replace Little's weary old stager. The drovers were left to themselves, and Houston drove off with the injured man. 

Although Houston's horse never completely recovered from the gruelling trip that followed, the injured man, who later made a complete recovery, but was minus a large patch of hair just above his forehead, gave Houston a big sum of money for him, and looked after him well for the remainder of his days. 

The two drovers, left to themselves, decided the issue in quite a reasonable, though unique, manner. After discussing the position they decided to cut a pack of cards, the best two out of three cuts, for the right of the track ahead. 

The other man won the cut, and next morning the two drovers rigged up a drafting yard with the netting they carried, and for the next two days they and their dogs undid the damage that a little reason in the first place would have avoided. However, Little was not beaten. He knew more about the tracks than his rival, and got his sheep down south ahead of him and in much better condition.— 'Campfire.' 

A Women Of Many Parts 

A few years before the Great War, I was living in Perth, where I attended a dancing class conducted by a Mrs. ——, who was one of the leading teachers of dancing in that city. A big woman, Mrs.—— was a typical German, coming under the fair, fat, and forty category, but nevertheless she was very active in many ways, as events proved. 

I went to Sydney at the end of 1910 on the Otranto, and was surprised to find that Mrs. —— was a fellow-passenger. In those days we were an unsuspecting people, and Mrs. —— got on very well with those on board except the chief engineer, Mr. B., who confided in me one night that he both disliked and distrusted her, although he had nothing to go on informing that opinion beyond the fact that she was a foreigner. 

A few nights later he was watching a vessel passing by with a party of us, including Mrs. —— . Suddenly the boat flashed out her name in Morse. It was the Argyllshire. For a joke, I whispered to Mrs. —— , 'Tell Mr. B. that that is the Argyllshire.' She did so, and the effect was magical, as he quickly turned round, glared at her, and exclaimed, 'How in the devil do you know?' She laughed, but did not divulge the source of her information, and Mr. B. doubtless felt that his suspicions were not absolutely groundless. 

Before leaving the boat at Sydney Mrs. —— practically invited herself out to La Perouse to inspect the cable station, whither I had been transferred, and I arranged to meet her at the train terminus, at a certain time, a few days afterwards. 

Arriving at the rendezvous slightly ahead of time I strolled down to the water's edge and was surprised to see Mrs. —— taking snapshots of the Botany Heads, so she calmly informed me, although the view in question was almost completely blotted out from the position she was in by the Bare Island fort. 

She then asked me what the building on Bare Island was, and on my telling her, although she doubtless knew all the time, she remarked that she had never been in a fort, and asked whether it would be possible for me to get her a permit to do so. In those days it was fairly easy to obtain the necessary permission, but somehow or other I refrained from even trying to do so. 

Whether Mr. B.'s suspicions had put me on my guard I cannot say, but I told her on the two subsequent occasions she visited La Perouse that it was impossible to get the required permission, at which she seemed a very disappointed woman. 

I returned to Perth in 1913, but only saw her once again. She had a luxurious flat in McNeil's Chambers, which adjoined the building containing the cable office, and after I had been up to interview her one day in connection with a cablegram, I remarked to my fellow-employes that it seemed too lavishly fitted up for a teacher of dancing. 

The authorities, too, must have had their suspicions, for when hostilities broke out in 1914 they raided the flat, but the bird had flown. It was subsequently ascertained that shortly before midnight she had taxied down to Fremantle and boarded a boat bound for Java. With other suspects on board the vessel, although hotly pursued, managed to get outside the three-mile limit. Mrs. —— got clear away. 

Some documents, however, which in her haste were left behind, were sufficiently damning to establish her as Germany's leading secret service agent in the West. Once every two years, between dancing seasons, she visited Europe, ostensibly to learn new dances, and in the other summers she used to go over to report at the head Australian office of their organisation in Sydney. 

I have never seen Mr. B since I left the Otranto at Sydney, but I have often wondered what he said when he heard what Mrs. —— really was.— 'Corstep.'

Player Bats Twice 

Some years ago a country cricket team had twin brothers playing for it. They were so much alike that members of the team had difficulty in telling one from the other, and it was practically impossible for strangers to do so. 

On one occasion their team was playing a friendly match with a team from the city. The city team batted first, and had got nine of the home team out for 27 runs short of their score. The only man left to go in was one of the twins, who, although a good bowler, was an erratic batsman. Sometimes he scored well, but at other times he went cheaply. His brother, on the other hand, was opening batsman for the team, and had made 60 that day. 

With defeat staring him in the face, the captain of the home team had a brain wave. So calling the twin who was the good batsman to him, as he thought, he instructed him to go in again. When the man started to say something, he told him not to argue, but to go in and knock up as many runs as possible. To the surprise of the city team the last wicket added 65 runs, giving the home team the match. 

That night the visitors were entertained at a dance, at which the captain of the home team confessed to the members of the other team what he had done, and said that the match should really be awarded to them. 

The visitors, however, refused to allow that to be done, saying that they considered that a good joke had been played on them. They asked, however, that they might see the two twins together, to hear what they had to say about it. To their surprise, and to that of the captain of the home team, both denied any knowledge of the trick, each maintaining that he had batted only once. 

To this day the captain is not sure whether they were having a joke at his expense, or whether one of them had really batted twice in the match in question. — 'Cricketer.' 

Money Goes Begging 

It is unusual in these days to hear of money being left to go begging, yet such was the case in a country town recently. A number of men were playing banker in a paddock when a policeman came on the scene unexpectedly. The cards were on the ground with various sums of money deposited on them.

One man was calling out; "Who'll set me?" "I'll set you!' replied the constable. With that the gamblers dispersed in all directions. The officer picked up the money and cards, and then set out after the law-breakers, all of whom, however, escaped. 

The next morning a notice appeared in the local paper to the effect that a large sum of money and playing cards had been found in a paddock and could be had upon application at the police station. Although that invitation was published some weeks ago, the money is still unclaimed.— A.D.