7 November 1935

HORSES' INTELLIGENCE SAVES MAN'S LIFE

Timber' Carter's Leg Crushed Under Huge Log

Years ago, when tractors and motor trucks were unknown, all teamsters took great pride in their teams, and some had such wonderful control over their horses that they would drive without reins. Just a pair of good leaders and a powerful voice were all that were required. How a man's life was saved because of the understanding of his leaders I am about to relate.

Godfrey Stein was an old man, whose chief occupation was logging timber in the Adelaide hills. For years he had dragged forest giants down the steep hillsides and, when he had three or four ready, he would trim them, jack them up and load them on the timber jinker. He would then cart them to Port Adelaide where they were used for building wharfs. By using jacks to move and load the huge boles of the trees, timber loggers were able to work single handed. A log weighing tons was slowly rolled over and by means of two jacks, and often the team would be used to help roll the logs to the ramp from which they were finally loaded on the jinker.

Stein was working under contract and had a large area of timber country leased for his own use. He lived a quiet and secluded life and often no one saw him for days, for the hills and suburbs were not so thickly populated then as they are now.

One morning he was working on fairly level ground. He had several large trees felled and trim med, and decided to place them on the carriage and haul them to the ramp. He secured his team, and a large jack, and drove out to the first log — a veritable giant of the forest. He unhooked the carriage below a slight slope, laid a few heavy logs on it, on which to roll the trimmed log, and drove the team up to it. A heavy chain was slipped over one end, and the team, at his command, moved for ward. Stein never used reins, although he was compelled to carry them when driving through the city.

Very slowly the heavy log was rolled and dragged from one side to the other, until it finally lay at the foot of the improvised ramp. Stein left his team hitched to the log, in case he needed it to help at the finish. With his two jacks he started to roll the log over, inch by inch, with a click of the catch at each pull on the lever, he moved the heavy log towards the carriage. It was work to which he was used, and any thought of accident never entered his mind as he pulled away at the jack. The log was turning heavily, as there was a bump under one end. The leverage was somewhat heavier than usual, and Stein put his full weight into it.

Suddenly the catch of the jack broke. Stein slipped and fell, and the heavy log rolled back on to his legs. His right foot was scarcely injured, but the log rested heavily on his left knee, which was badly broken. For some time the injured man lay unconscious from the torturing pain. As his senses returned, he realised his terrible predicament. He was helpless, trapped under that heavy log, with no one within miles of the locality. Unless he could free himself he would die a terrible death from pain and exposure.

He surveyed his position. The jack was within reach, but was useless. He might be able to dig himself out with it, but in his weak state a jack weighing nearly 70 lb. was rather an awkward implement. In addition, there was a big possibility that if he due the earth away from his trapped foot, he stood a chance of being crushed to death, as the log had a decided lean in his direction.

There remained but one slender chance. His team was still hitched to the log. After weighing the matter well in his mind, he came to a sudden decision. The next minute his voice rang out. 'Gee off!' The leaders pricked their ears. Again the command rang out, though in a far weaker tone than usual. Slowly the leaders moved round. 'Whoa back!' The whole team commenced to reverse. 'Gee off!' Again the leaders turned further round. By this time the team was strung out in line opposite him.

All that was now required was a heavy pull, and that log must surely roll back up the ramp. Perhaps it would roll clean over and fall off the carriage, but that would not matter. One thing seemed certain, and that was that to escape from his trap he would have to risk the log tolling over on to his leg and again and smashing it up further. The risk was that the team might pull and then baulk, thus allowing the log to roll back on him again, perhaps with even more serious results.

Stein, however, decided that he must take the risk. Bracing himself, he gave a sharp whistle. The horses pricked up their ears. 'Gee up' he shouted, and closed his eyes, waiting for the log to commence its turn and pulp up the remainder of his leg. The team moved forward; the chain tightened. 'Up!' he yelled again, and slowly the log moved; but instead of rolling back on his leg, he actually felt the pressure easier. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see the log slowly lifting clear of his leg as it turned. The cause was noticed in a flash. The heavy chain was knotted close to the log, and as the team had turned so had the knot followed up the slack chain, and now the log was lifting as it was pulled over the knot.

Another quick 'Up,' and as the log lifted off his injured leg for a brief moment he dragged himself clear of his trap. The log, However, toppled over and rolled clean off the carriage. But the team knew its work. As the log rolled for ward the chain slackened, and every horse leapt forward to avoid being hit. Stein halted them with a 'Whoa!'

Hobbling along, he somehow managed to unyoke all the team with the exception of the lightest horse, which he mounted and rode for assistance. In spite of the somewhat crude methods of surgery practised in those days, Stein recovered and although he had a stiff leg for life as a result of his experience, he returned to his work and managed his faithful team for years. — 'Stringy-bark.'

The Remedy That Failed

In the days when Mount Gambier was young, there were a couple of individuals who were in the habit of indulging in excess in intoxicants, to the annoyance of their respective wives. On one occasion one of them went home drunk and, after administering a thrashing to his wife, went outside and lay on the grass on his face, with his head on his arms, to sleep it off. His wife, resentful of the thrashing she had received, decided to take advantage of his position and condition and have her revenge. Seeing a well worn spade leaning against the wall of the house, she seized it and gave him a hard blow on the small of his back. The implement was sharper than she thought, for it cut through his clothes and made an ugly gash in the region of his backbone. The doctor ex pressed the opinion that had it gone a quarter of an inch deeper the man would have never walked again, and probably would have lost his life. As it was he spent the best part of a year on his back, and when he got about again could walk only with difficulty. In consequence he had perforce to keep off the drink.

Sometimes after this, the other man went on the spree, and his wife suffered for it. She complained to her neighbor, the wife of the other man. 'Vy don't you hit him vid the spade, like I did?' she asked. The husband in this case also went out on the grass to sleep it off, but with him face to the sky, and his stomach standing out like a diminutive bow window. The wife decided to put the advice of her neighbor to the test, and seeing a long-handled shovel standing by, seized it with both hands. Advancing to the prostrate sleeping man she brought the business end of the implement down on her husband's stomach with a resounding smack, from which it rebounded as if from an inflated motor tyre. It, however, did no serious damage other than waking 'the sleeping dog,' so to speak.

Seeing anger written on the man's face, and thinking that discretion is the better part of valor, she decided to go over to her neighbor's until her husband's resentment had worn off. But an unfriendly fence which she had to get through held her fast, and her annoyed husband took advantage of her entangled, situation. Removing, his leather belt, he administered another thrashing, which made the wife conclude that prescribed remedies do not always act — Tanta-Tyga.

The Haunted House

About thirty years ago, when the Blinman mine was being worked, a friend and I were carrying our swags on the way to the mine. As it was getting dark on the fourth night after we had left Hammond, a strong wind began to blow, and we began to look around for a sheltered place in which to camp. At last we came to a house which looked as though it had been built only a few months. We went up to it and knocked at the door three or four times. No one answered, so we decided to go in and inspect it.

On entering the house we found no furniture, except an old table made out of kerosene cases. We saw at once that nobody was living there, so we decided to camp there that night. I went out to gather some wood whilst my friend, Bill, got a can of water. When I came back we lit the fire and put the billy on to boil. As the wind was still blowing strongly, Bill told me to shut the door, which I did. I also closed the windows.

No sooner had I sat down beside Bill, however, than the door and windows were open again. I thought that the wind had blown them open, so I went and shut the door again and barred the windows. Great was my surprise and alarm when I sat down again and found that the doors and windows were still open. Bill noticed that the door was open, and called me a baby for not being able to shut it. I told him to have a shot at it himself if he was so good at shut ting doors. He shut the door and windows, and walked back to me with a sneering smile on his face; but he soon took it off when he saw that the door and windows were open again.

I was convinced by this time that the place was haunted, and began to pack my swag. Bill shut the door and windows again, but no sooner had he shut them than they were open once more. He also got frightened, and packed his swag and followed close on my heels.

We saw a light in the distance and made for it as quickly as we could After about half an hour's walking we came to another house, and knocked at the door. A man came out, and when he saw that we were carrying our swags he offered us a bed for the night. He told us that the house we had left was haunted and that we were not to be laughed at for having decided not to stay there.— 'King Bill.'

A Theatre Panic

A little more than 40 years ago a theatrical company came to Adelaide with the once popular melodrama, 'The Silver King.' The season opened at the Theatre Royal in Hindley street on a Saturday night in March.

The day had been hot and sultry, but despite the uncomfortable conditions every seat in the gallery and stalls was occupied, and on account of the heat as many doors and windows as possible were left open. During the performance of the second act a violent cool change arrived, the wind blowing from the west with great force and raising clouds of dust, which soon entered freely through the open doors and windows of the theatre. Such lights as were left burning during the performance were obscured, and the thick, oppressive atmosphere, combined with the roaring of the wind, suggested to at least one nervous individual in the gallery that the building was on fire. Looking about him apprehensively, he seemed to find confirmation of his fears in the uneasy restlessness of those sitting near him.

With a cry of 'Fire!' he leaped from his seat, and, pushing past his neighbors, made for the nearest exit. He was closely followed by a foolish, yelling mob of men and women who, in their fear, cared for nothing but their own safety. The panic spread from the gallery to the stalls, where a similar rush was made for the doors. Blinded by fear, the crowd ignored the special fire escape doors and followed one another like sheep to the familiar exits. There a fierce struggle ensued, in the course of which clothes were torn and women fainted.

A disaster seemed imminent, but the situation was saved by the coolness of one of the actors, a veteran named Ireland, who happened to be on the stage when the panic began. He at once abandoned the old-fashioned soliloquy upon which he was engaged, and stepping forward to the footlights begged the audience not to give way in such a cowardly manner to fears which were entirely groundless. His vigorous appeals to common sense checked the stampede and order was gradually restored.

The only person seriously injured was an elderly doorkeeper, who was stationed at the entrance to the stalls, and was hurled down a flight of eight steps in the first rush. He was re moved to the Adelaide Hospital with a broken wrist and severe bruises. After an interruption of about a quarter of an hour the performance was resumed, and, although no evidence on the point is forthcoming, it is to be hoped that admittance was refused to those who in their mad haste to fight their way out of a perfectly safe building had neglected to provide themselves with pass out checks.— 'JEEPEE.'

Diving Into Trouble

A friend of mine who lived in a sea-side town was in the habit of taking an early morning swim right through out the year. One morning he arrived at the jetty to find that he was the only bather. As there was rather a cold wind blowing, he quickly slipped off his pyjamas, and then ran along the spring board and dived into the water. His horror can be imagined when he saw directly beneath him as he entered the water a great black shape. He had dived directly at an eight-foot shark. With a splash he struck the water and felt something rasp his forearm but in a flash he was on the surface and swimming for his life to the nearest steps. These he reached with relief too deep for words, but on looking for the shark could see no signs of it. It evidently had been as astonished (or panic-stricken) as my friend. I often wonder what the result would have been if that shark had been anywhere but in the direct line of the dive.— A.B.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1935, November 7). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 15. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92331561