16 January 1936

EASTERN VENDETTA IN AUSTRALIA

How An Irishman Helped A Persian To Get Even

Prominent among those who in the early days carted the copper ore from the Burra mine to Port Adelaide was Abdul Khassan, a camel driver, who owned a large string of camels. Abdul was one of the mysterious men of the East, being a Persian and of a decidedly reserved nature. He continued carrying for some time without any undue notice being taken of him until one day the other carters on the track were surprised to see him walking on foot towards Burra. One carter, an Irishman named O'Reilley, asked him where his camels were, and why he was on foot. Abdul grimed with the dust of the track, weary and foot sore, gave him an astonishing answer. 'Even unto this far land has an enemy followed me and destroyed my camels,' he said.

'Hey! What's this?' gasped O'Reilley. 'Only that some outcast of Allah has seen fit to persecute me by destroying my camels. By the beard of the Prophet, I will treat him to his deserts when I find him,' replied Abdul. O'Reilley wanted to know a lot more, but the Persian was not very communicative. Nevertheless, he accepted a lift into Burra.

Next day Abdul had a fresh string of camels, but they were not in good condition, were hard to handle, and were not what his past team had been. The camels Abdul was using had been grazing on a run near Burra, where he still had some others. These he shifted one night to another ground, the location of which no one knew. The loss of the camels soon became the talk of the teamsters. Many sympathised with Abdul, who continued working his new team in, but he was not the same man as before. There seemed to be some thing worrying him, and it was not the loss of his camels so much as the fact that someone had destroyed them. He now watched his team night and day, moody and depressed.

Some weeks later, however, Abdul was again without a team. His unknown enemy had repeated the act, and Abdul's camels had all died suddenly, without any visible cause. In despair, Abdul brought in his last camels from somewhere outback, and resumed carrying, but he was now a broken-spirited man. No more did he carry his head erect and no longer were those eyes of his flashing. Probably, he prayed and cursed at the same time, as he now became but a straggler when he once had been the leader.

One day, as O'Reilley was returning to Burra with a load of provisions, he was hailed from the roadside by a man who asked for a lift. Generally the Irishman ignored such requests, as many roadside wanderers were tough characters and dangerous travelling companions. Many a teamster had discovered this to his sorrow, after he had come around after having been hit over the head and ransacked. On this occasion, however, O'Reilley decided to break his rule. The man wore a turban, and might prove interesting.

As the man hailed him a second time he stopped the team and motioned to the stranger to take a seat beside him. 'Where are you heading for?' was O'Reilley's first question. In broken English the stranger in formed him that he hoped to secure work further up north. 'Why not try the Burra?' asked O'Reilley; but his companion said he was not interested in copper mining, and was going further north.

It was rather a hot afternoon, and the horses were in a lather of sweat, so O'Reilley decided to give them a drink and a spell. Knowing of an old well up a side road a few miles further on, he decided to call there. As he turned the corner up the side track, he noticed something he had not seen before. The skeletons of Abdul Khassan's camels were lying not far from the well. The stranger got off the waggon and walked over to the well to get the water while O'Reilley filled and lighted his pipe.

The well was seldom used, and very few knew of its existence, consequently the well rope had long since rotted; but someone had replaced it with wire, and with this the stranger wound up a bucketful of water on the ancient wind lass. Instead of bringing the water straight to the team, O'Reilley was surprised to see him carefully rinse the bucket out and pour the water away. Then, after having refilled it, he brought it over and handed it to O'Reilley, who watered his horses.

After a short spell the journey to Burra was resumed. The stranger gradually became talkative and enquired about the dead camels. O'Reilley told him the facts as he knew them, and the stranger then pressed for information concerning Khassan. In fact, he evinced such an interest in Khassan's whereabouts and doings that Reilley's suspicions were aroused.

Suddenly bells were heard close at hand, and around a bend in the well timbered road came a string of camels. 'Here's that countryman of yours you're so interested in,' remarked O'Reilley. He received no reply, and on looking round was surprised to find his passenger missing.

By this time Abdul was level with the waggon, and he halted his beasts in response to O'Reilley's gesture. 'Hey! Abdul,' he said, 'I believe I've found you're blithering enemy. Did you ever water your camels at the well up the side road further back?' 'That I did,' replied the weary Persian. 'Well, my lad, that water bucket at the well had poison in it. I'll tell you just why. I picked up a countryman of yours some way back and I've just dropped to it. He rinsed out the well bucket pretty carefully before he handed it to me to water my team with.' ''Yes, friend. I knew that it was probably so; the poison was a desert secret of which very few know. But where is this swine you say did it? If Allah will only deliver him into my hands, then I will know that my prayers have been answered.'

''Man. I don't know where the spalpeen has got to, but he was sitting behind me on the load till I heard your bells tinkling over the rise. He can't be far away, but for the life of me I don't know where he is." Both men scanned the road, but the trees and dense scrub in the nearby paddocks provided excellent cover. Abdul was very excited. 'I shall leave my camels where they are and hunt until I find this cursed being,' he cried. The camels were standing alongside the waggon, and suddenly the Persian gave a frenzied yell and leapt from the back of his mount on to the vehicle. O'Reilley was amazed to see him hit at the canvas covering at the rear of the waggon, and as the stick landed a terrific yell of anguish rent the air. O'Reilley then realised that his passenger had secreted himself under the covering, but the sharp eyed Persian had discovered his hiding place. Abdul shrieked with glee as he recognised the voice of his victim. He held the advantage and made full use of it. Within a few minutes the man underneath the canvas had ceased to struggle, and when the covering was removed it revealed the unconscious figure of Abdul's enemy. There was no mistaking his identity, and Abdul's black eyes burnt with hatred and revenge as he surveyed the beaten man.

'Now, my lads, you've both had enough. What'll I do with the spalpeen you've put to sleep?' said O'Reilley. 'My friend,' replied Abdul, 'it is written that I destroy this swine. Leave him in my care, and no one will ever be the wiser.' 'You' can't murder the fellow in cold blood, replied O'Reilley. 'You've had your fun. I'll hand him in at the police station. The police don't love these road bums, and they'll make it hot for him when I pitch a good yarn.' 'As you delivered him to me, my friend, I must bow to your wish and leave him to your disposal. But I beg you to be watchful, for he is a fiend and would cut your throat in your sleep,' said the Persian. 'And won't I belt him if he does,' said O'Reilley. 'You put your mind at rest. This bird won't trouble you again. I'll deliver him in fair order.'

With a profusion of thanks and the blessings of Allah Abdul Khassan left the cheery Irishman with his unconscious passenger, whom he later delivered to the police with a wonderful tale of how the fellow had attempted to strangle him and rob his waggon. Abdul's name was never mentioned. The officer in charge of the police station was also an Irishman, and was very sympathetic, though he probably formed his own opinion of the story. Sufficient to say that Abdul's enemy was given his marching orders and a severe caution after some time in the local lock-up. Abdul eventually re covered from his setbacks and prospered; and no doubt he mentioned O'Reilley in his prayers for many months after the incident.— 'Memorabilia.'

No Friendship In Horse Dealing

'No friendship in horse dealing' is a time-honored maxim, and invariably unsuspecting buyers fall for the wiles of those sellers who know the technique of the business. Often, men with more than a passing knowledge of the horse dealing game get caught. I am one who once got landed well and truly.

I had delivered a mob of sheep in the Springsure district, Central Queensland, just before the outbreak of war, and while camped near the later township, waiting to lift a mob of bullocks for New South Wales, I was offered one of the, best types of stock horses I have ever seen,' ' The price asked, £15, was reasonable enough at that time, and, thinking that the animal in question would make an ideal night horse, I sent word along that I would be a buyer if a ride on it proved satisfactory. A previous inspection had been enough to show that the animal was sound and of the age stated, and all I wanted to close the deal was to be sure that the horse was what the owner, said, 'as quiet as a lamb.'

In due course the horse was brought over to the camp, and a few minutes on its back was enough; the horse was a free goer, a comfortable hack, and had a bit of pace, so I bought him. After the money had been paid over and the receipt given, the horse-tailer casually asked what the horse was like to catch. The answer, 'You can catch him anywhere out of hobbles,' was, or, rather, seemed, quite satisfactory. We had no need, however, to hobble or catch our horse out in the open just then, for, whilst waiting for the cattle to be mustered, a horse paddock had been placed at my disposal, and every morning the horse-tailer used to catch an old 'damper-eater,' whose habit it was to feed about the camp, for running any horses required for the day into the stockyard nearby.

Eventually I took delivery of the cattle and started off, riding the newly bought horse, and hobbling him out at sundown with the rest of the plant horses. Next morning we were rather surprised to see the horse-tailer coming to camp with all the houses unhobbled, but the new fellow. I cannot repeat the reply of a very annoyed horse tailer, in answer to my query about the new horse being hard to catch. Thinking that it was just freshness on the part of the horse, for he was almost pig-fat, I considered that another long day with the cattle for him would not be amiss, so I walked out with my bridle to catch him.

One might just as well have tried to catch an emu on foot. Six of us attempted for, half an hour to trick that horse, but all our efforts were futile. Even when a greenhide rope was brought out, I could not get within throwing distance. I had just made up my mind to make a rope yard when a half-caste in the camp suggested a means that might prove effective. Although not very impressed with his notion, I told him to go ahead. Mounting his horse,, the half-caste cut out the rogue from the mob, and, after receiving a few cuts from his stockwhip, the hobbled horse started away at a good pace across the plain. The half-caste, riding just behind, kept the horse going, until quite suddenly it stopped in its tracks. Riding quietly upon the near side, the half-caste looped the thong of his whip around the horse's neck, the animal standing quite still during the operations, and seemingly quite unconcerned. Dismounting on the off-side of his own horse, and keeping a strain on the thong, the half-caste made a temporary halter out of the latter, stooped down and took off the hobbles, and led the horse back to camp.

I had that horse on the road all the way to the New South Wales border, a 16-weeks' trip, but every morning the procedure mentioned above had to be carried out before it could be caught and unhobbled. As a matter of fact, a new man I employed near Mitchell to take the place of the horse-tailer, who took ill, reckoned that he would catch the rogue on foot or 'eat him.' I offered him the horse for nothing if he could do as he had said. The horse was still mine at the end of the trip, and, in spite of the horse-tailer, 'uneaten.'— 'Drover.'

A Scheme That Went Astray

Carl Dohnt, an Immigrant who came out to this colony with the first arrivals from Germany, had married a widow who, besides having a 'nest egg,' had more than her share of temper. One day, in a rage, Mrs. Dohnt set off for the nearest town to purchase some poison to once more relieve her of the bonds of matrimony. The chemist, however, had ever a ready ear for gossip and, having heard of the woman's oft-repeated threat to poison Dohnt, supplied her with some Epsom salts instead of the rat poison ordered, afterwards sending word to Dohnt as to what he had done.

Watching his wife very carefully the next morning, the farmer saw her carefully mix the salts into his plate of porridge. He started the breakfast and consumed about half of the serve, when he gasped and fell forward across the table as though in a fit. Mrs. Dohnt at once dragged the limp figure out on to the verandah and, with the aid of a short length of rope, proceeded to hang him, her husband supporting himself on his toes during the ceremony. This done, the lady set off at a good pace to the neighbor's and told them that Carl had committed suicide. Back they all rushed, and much to the chagrin of the wife and the amusement of the neighbors, found Carl leisurely finishing his breakfast. — 'The Padre.'

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1936, January 16). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 14. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92335597