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.
