20 February 1936

CATTLE-STEALING ATTEMPT THAT WENT ASTRAY 

Precipitate Action Prevents Thieves Being Caught

Although not as many stories have been written regarding cattle rustling in Australia as in America, one must not suppose from that that it did not exist. It may not have reached such large dimensions, and the technique employed may have been different, but it did definitely exist, as the following story will show:— 

Whilst managing a small cattle property, unfenced and surrounded by rough and rangey country, I was approached by three young men, all of whom I knew slightly, and asked for permission to travel through the property with some cattle. 

Without asking any pertinent questions as to why they wished to do so, and having a suspicion as to what their intentions were, I refused their request. I also told them that a few hundred of our breeders and some big clean-skin calves were known by me to be running not far away from where I felt sure they intended to go. Also that numbers of cows and calves belonging to another station in the district were known to be in the neighborhood. 

It needed little intuition to realise it was the clean-skin calves belonging to the station that were the attraction. Only by travelling them through the property I was managing would it be possible for any cattle to be brought away from the neighborhood in question, unless of course they were taken back through the station country referred to—a feat almost impossible without discovery taking place. However, seeing how determined I was in my refusal, the trio appeared to accept it in good grace and rode away, one remarking, 'That's the end of it.' I thought so too. 

Some days later a stockman employed by the station rode over to my quarters, saying that he had followed the tracks of a mob of cows and calves, and probably thinking that I had been mustering ours, he had come over to see if any of the station cattle had been included in what I brought down. 'It's a wonder you never sent word to the boss,' concluded the stockman, seemingly certain that I had done as he had thought. My surprise was no greater than his when I told him that I knew nothing of what he was talking about. 

In less than an hour we were both on the tracks of the driven cattle, the signs giving every evidence that the mob had passed through within 48 hours. 

Darkness saw us still on the trail, but realising how futile it would be to carry on then, we decided to ride back to the house, get some food and go back and be ready to follow on at daylight. Although I said nothing to the stockman, I felt certain that I knew just who were responsible, but apart from having a case for trespass I had no interest unless some of our cows and calves were in the mob. 

Early in the afternoon we came to a netting fence, miles away from our country, and serving as a division be tween the properties of two selectors. Following the tracks along the fence, we saw where it had been opened and the cattle driven through. Pliers soon gave us an entry also, and, knowing that the cattle could not be too far ahead, we cantered along until we came to a sub-divisional six-wire fence, where we found a mob of bellowing cows, walking up and down trying to find an opening. 

What had happened was as plain as an open book; the calves had been drafted off at some yard and the cows driven back and put through the six wire fence. Only new-chum 'poddy-dodgers' would indulge in such tactics, of course, and what little sympathy I might have had for those implicated, faded when I saw those cows, amongst which were several in which I was interested, as well as others belonging to the station and to one or two other owners.

Making an opening in the fence and driving the cows along to it, we let them through, 137 all told. There was no longer any need to follow tracks; the bellowing cows led us to a yard built in some scrub. Our actions, however, had been too hasty. The cows in the lead gave the alarm, and when we arrived the birds had not only flown, but had been prevented from putting into effect the evidence required to bring about a conviction. 

It was quite evident that branding was just about to begin, for the calf pen was full and just outside the rails a fire was burning merrily. There were signs also that water had been thrown on the brands to cool them sufficiently for handling during what was evidently a hurried flight. We found where three horses had been standing, but no signs of where a camp might have been, and the conclusion we came to was that the night had been spent with a selector in the neighborhood, whose brand was possibly to have been used. 

Inclusive of about twenty calves carrying the station brand, all told in the yard were one hundred and sixteen. With the gates opened the calves were soon mothered. 

Starting the mob on its way we travelled through the night, eventually arriving late in the morning at a yard on the property which I managed. To make sure of what we had, the cows and calves were kept in the yard over night and next morning half a dozen of us, including the station stockmen, set out and ear-marked every clean skin with its correct mark. Incidentally with no pliers available for the station and two other owners, we risked prosecution by using a knife. 

Some months later, whilst on a visit to the township, I met one of the three men who had asked permission to travel through the run. At first he denied any knowledge of the incident in question, but eventually, after I had used a bit of bluff and told sundry untruths, he weakened and unfolded the whole story. He and his two mates were to have received two pounds a head for the calves as soon as they carried the buyer's ear-mark and brand, and it was definitely proved that the cows had been put away from all chance of mothering the calves. 

'It was the greatest fluke in the world that — came across our tracks' the fellow remarked. 'Another twelve hours and we'd have been set.' 

He also informed me that as soon as they had heard the cows bellowing, one of their number had got on his horse and, cantering out to a ridge, had seen us coming. Asked the reason of their apparent stupidity in leaving the cows where we had found them, he replied that the cows wouldn't have given much trouble after branding had 'been finished, adding significantly, 'A dead cock never crows.' From that remark I drew my own conclusions as to what would have been the fate of those 137 cows. —'Old Timer.' 

Two Hours Too Late 

In my time, and for many years before I knew the Cooper or Diamentina country in South Australia, Coongy station was noted for its horses. This story has not been written, however, to extol the merits of the Coongy bred horses, but to recall a tragedy that befell a party from that station many years ago. 

In those days Birdsville was a more important town than it is today, and its Christmas race meeting carried stakes that attracted horses from near and far. It was with the hope of cleaning up the programme there that a party of five stockmen left Coongy stations one Christmas with some gallopers of class. 

Until the Hergott Springs-Birdsville track was encountered, no regular track existed in the direction of the latter town from Coongy; but being bushmen they had little fear of not being able to find the way, especially as one of the party had made the overland trip previously. 

Being midsummer the weather was naturally hot when they set out, and water canteens were filled and carried on the pack horses along with, the rations. It was their intention when they set out to water their horses and refill their canteens at a small lake two days' travel from Coongy. 

But some how or other their plans miscarried, for the lake was not where it was thought to be. Knowing from the distance, they had travelled that the lake had been passed, the men, suffering the pangs of thirst, decided to proceed no further after reaching the foot of an extra high sandhill. 

The horses were frantic with thirst, and the men, realising the dire straits they were in, decided that whilst three of them and most of the horses remained at the foot of the sandhill, the other two should take the pack-horses and endeavour to find the lake. 

After wandering around for some miles these two men eventually found the lake, and after quenching their thirst and that of their horses and filling the canteens, they started back to the relief of their companions. But they were too late!  

On arriving at the camp stark tragedy met their eyes. All the horses were dead, as were also their three mates. In an effort to ease their parched throats and satisfy the craving for water, some of the throats of the horses had been cut and the blood drunk, but all to no purpose. 

The last of the three to die was evidently possessed of his full faculties until just before he expired. Using a finger dipped in horse's blood he had scrawled a message on some newspaper. The time was given—3 o'clock in the of afternoon— but the writer had not been able to finish the message or sign his name. A watch hanging on a little bush nearby gate the time as five minutes to five when the two men with the water returned. They were just a couple of hours too late. 

Tracks up and down the side of the sandhill showed that the men had climbed up there periodically to see if relief was coming; and a tragic feature in this connection is that had they only looked westward from the top of the hill, they could not have failed to see the timber on the banks of the Diamentina River, where water was in abundance in many holes. 

Even to this day a high sandhill that stands above its fellows in the desert country between Coongy and the Birdsville road is known as Dead Men's Hill.— 'Old Timer.' 

From Birdsville To Cairo 

Remarkable coincidences occur at times! In 1910 I was about to leave Hergott Springs (now called Marree) with my plant for south-western Queensland. 

While I was getting some stores a young fellow came into the shop and asked me if I wanted any men. I told him that I did not. 

'Well, what about a lift up to Birdsville?' he asked, intimating that he had two horses. 'Right,' I said, telling him where to find our camp. 'We'll be off tomorrow at daylight.'

I knew the young fellow was an Englishman, and one who had hot been long in the country; but I was surprised to hear him say that he had an uncle who was an earl. I took little heed, however, of this, and his behavior in camp did not point to his having the relationship he claimed. He said that he had runaway to sea, and his seat in the saddle seemed to point to the fact that he had not had much experience of riding. He was certainly a poor horseman, but he was game. 

Pat, as we called him, wanted to learn to ride buckjumpers, and though there was nothing in the plant that could be considered even a rough pig-rooter, Pat was not satisfied until he had been thrown a few times. By the time we reached Birdsville, however, he had learnt little. 

On arriving at the latter town I received word about a mob of cattle then being mustered, and I offered Pat a job; but he did not accept it, saying that he wanted to get a job where there were rough horses; he was determined to learn to ride. 

During the next few years I heard of Pat from time to time, but not being interested, took little notice of his reported doings. And then the Great War broke out. 

Shortly before three o'clock one afternoon in 1915, while on leave in Cairo, I was seeking an Australian officer whom I might get to endorse a form I had for presentation to the Anglo-Egyptian Bank; a sum of money having been cabled to me from Australia. I had less than sufficient for a meal, and at last, as I had very little time to spare, I decided to approach the first English officer I saw. Just when I needed one I could not see an officer of the A.I.F. anywhere. 

Going to the St. James, a rather exclusive bar and grill room, but one which was not out of bounds to privates, I accosted two English officers who were just leaving the grill room after having apparently had a late lunch. 

Throwing my best salute, I explained my trouble. The one to whom I had handed over the form and the cable I had received, would not hear of it at all. 

'Damn it, I don't know you,' he said rather haughtily. I had not taken much stock of the other officer, and seeing that the case was hopeless, I was just about to turn away, when a hand grabbed me by the arm. 

'Well, what do you know!' said the other officer, quite excitedly. 'You're —? ? ; remember me?' It was Pat. A hastily endorsed form, a taxi to the bank, and a rather hectic night with Pat and his fellow-officer followed. I heard later that Pat 'went west' in France.— A.N.M. 

Where There's A Will, There's A Way

Some years ago a young Adelaide girl left home and accepted employment on a farm in a northern township. 

As she was an only child, her parents naturally wanted her home, but despite their entreaties she would not return. The father even invoked the aid of the law, but all to no avail, because his daughter was earning an honest living. 

However, one day the old chap had a brainwave. A few doors from him there lived a young unemployed man. The father made an offer to him that if he could induce the girl to leave her situation and live in the city, a handsome reward would be his. 

The young man lost no time in accepting the challenge. His first task was to secure employment on the farm, which he did without much trouble. The girl from Adelaide and the new hand quickly became friends, and later became lovers. Within a short time wedding bells rang in the little, country church. 

The young couple went to Adelaide for the honeymoon, after which they set up house in the same street as the bride's parents. 

The young woman does not know to this day what actuated her husband in seeking work in the country. It was her wish to return to the north, but her husband insisted that there were better prospects in the city. So they settled down, and now everybody is happy.— A.D.