But gorges and ridges were not all Dan had to show us.
Twice in our
thirty-five miles of the Roper - about ten miles apart - wide-spreading
rocky arches completely span the river a foot or so beneath its surface,
forming natural crossing-places; for at them the full volume of water
takes what Dan called a "duck-under," leaving only smoothly flowing
shallow streams, a couple of hundred yards wide, running over the rocky
bridgeways. The first "duck-under" occurs in a Ti Tree valley, and,
marvelling at the wonder of the rippling streamlet so many yards wide and
so few in length, with that deep, silent river for its source and
estuary - we loitered in the pleasant forest glen, until Dan, coming on
further proofs of a black fellow's "second-sight" along the margins of
the duck-under, he turned away in disgust, and as we followed him through
the great forest he treated us to a lengthy discourse on thought-reading.
The Salt Creek, coming into the Roper with its deep, wide estuary,
interrupted both Dan's lecture and our course, and following along the
creek to find the crossing we left the river, and before we saw it again
a mob of "brumbies" had lured us into a "drouth" that even Dan declared
was the "dead finish."
Brumby horses being one of the problems of the run, and the destruction
of brumby stallions imperative, as the nigger-hunt was apparently off,
the brumby mob proved too enticing to be passed by, and for an hour and
more it kept us busy, the Maluka and Dan being equally "set on getting a
stallion or two."
As galloping after brumbies when there is no trap to run them into is
about as wise as galloping after a flight of swallows, we followed at a
distance when they galloped, and stalked them against the wind when they
drew up to reconnoitre: beautiful, clean-limbed, graceful creatures, with
long flowing manes and tails floating about them, galloping freely and
swiftly as they drove the mares before them, or stepping with light,
dancing tread as they drew up and faced about, with the mares now huddled
together behind them. Three times they drew up and faced about and each
time a stallion fell before the rifles, then, becoming more wary, they
led us farther and farther back, evading the rifles at every halt, until
finally they galloped out of sight, and beyond all chance of pursuit.
Then, Dan discovering he had acquired the "drouth," advised "giving it
best" and making for the Spring Hole in Duck Creek.
"Could do with a drop of spring water," he said, but Dan's luck was out
this trip, and the Spring Hole proved a slimy bog "alive with dead
cattle," as he himself phrased it. Three dead beasts lay bogged on its
margin, and held as in a vice, up to their necks in slime and awfulness
stood two poor living brutes.
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