Leaves him little to do beyond riding round
occasionally, to keep his "boys" at their posts, and himself alert and
ready for emergencies. But a Chinaman's idea of watching cattle is to
wedge them into a solid body, and hold them huddled together like a mob
of frightened sheep, riding incessantly round them and forcing back every
beast that looks as though it might extricate itself from the tangle, and
galloping after any that do escape with screams of anxiety and impotency.
"Beck! beck!" (back), screamed our drovers, as they galloped after
escaped beasts, flopping and wobbling and gurgling in their saddles like
half-filled water-bags; galloping invariably after the beasts, and
thereby inciting there to further galloping. And "Beck! beck!" shouted
our boys on duty with perfect mimicry of tone and yells of delight at the
impotency of the drovers, galloping always outside the runaways and
bending them back into the mob, flopping and wobbling and gurgling in
their saddles until, in the half light, it was difficult to tell drover
from "boy." Not detecting the mimicry, the drovers in no way resented
it; the more the boys screamed and galloped in their service the better
pleased they were; while the "boys" were more than satisfied with their
part of the entertainment, Jackeroo and Big Jack particularly enjoying
themselves.
"They'll have 'em stampeding yet," Dan said at last growing uneasy, as
more and more cattle escaped, and the mob shifted ground with a rumbling
rattle of hoofs every few minutes. Finally, as the rumbling rattle
threatened to become permanent, a long drawn-out cry of "Ring - ing" from
Big Jack sent Dan and the Quiet Stockman to their saddles. In ten
minutes the hubbub had ceased, Dan's master-hand having soothed the
irritated beasts; then having opened them out he returned to the camp
fire alone. Jack had gone on duty before his time and sent the "little
Chinese darlings" to bed.
Naturally Dan's cattle-tussle reminded him of other tussles with ringing
cattle; then the cattle-camp suggesting other cattle-camp yarns, he
settled down to reminiscences until he had us all cold thrills and
skin-creeps, although we were gathered around a blazing fire.
Tale after tale he told of stampedes and of weaners piling up against
fences. Then followed a tale or two of cattle Iying quiet as mice one
minute, and up on their feet crashing over camps the next, then tales of
men being "treed" or "skied," and tales of scrub-bulls, maddened
cow-mothers, and "pokers."
"Pokers," it appears, have a habit of poking out of mobs, grazing quietly
as they edge off until "they're gone before you miss 'em." Camps seem to
have some special attraction for pokers, but we learned they object to
interference.
