on our selection-第1章

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On　Our　Selection

by　Steele　Rudd　（Arthur　Hoey　Davis）






PIONEERS　OF　AUSTRALIA！
To　You　〃Who　Gave　Our　Country　Birth；〃
to　the　memory　of　You
whose　names；　whose　giant　enterprise；　whose　deeds　of
fortitude　and　daring
were　never　engraved　on　tablet　or　tombstone；
to　You　who　strove　through　the　silences　of　the　Bush…lands
and　made　them　ours；
to　You　who　delved　and　toiled　in　loneliness　through
the　years　that　have　faded　away；
to　You　who　have　no　place　in　the　history　of　our　Country
so　far　as　it　is　yet　written；
to　You　who　have　done　MOST　for　this　Land；
to　You　for　whom　few；　in　the　march　of　settlement；　in　the　turmoil
of　busy　city　life；　now　appear　to　care；
and　to　you　particularly；
GOOD　OLD　DAD；
This　Book　is　most　affectionately　dedicated。

〃STEELE　RUDD。〃




CONTENTS。




CHAPTER　I。　　　　　STARTING　THE　SELECTION
CHAPTER　II。　　　　OUR　FIRST　HARVEST
CHAPTER　III。　　　BEFORE　WE　GOT　THE　DEEDS
CHAPTER　IV。　　　　WHEN　THE　WOLF　WAS　AT　THE　DOOR
CHAPTER　V。　　　　　THE　NIGHT　WE　WATCHED　FOR　WALLABIES
CHAPTER　VI。　　　　GOOD　OLD　BESS
CHAPTER　VII。　　　CRANKY　JACK
CHAPTER　VIII。　　A　KANGAROO　HUNT　FROM　SHINGLE　HUT
CHAPTER　IX。　　　　DAVE'S　SNAKEBITE
CHAPTER　X。　　　　　DAD　AND　THE　DONOVANS
CHAPTER　XI。　　　　A　SPLENDID　YEAR　FOR　CORN
CHAPTER　XII。　　　KATE'S　WEDDING
CHAPTER　XIII。　　THE　SUMMER　OLD　BOB　DIED
CHAPTER　XIV。　　　WHEN　DAN　CAME　HOME
CHAPTER　XV。　　　　OUR　CIRCUS
CHAPTER　XVI。　　　WHEN　JOE　WAS　IN　CHARGE
CHAPTER　XVII。　　DAD'S　〃FORTUNE〃
CHAPTER　XVIII。　WE　EMBARK　IN　THE　BEAR　INDUSTRY
CHAPTER　XIX。　　　NELL　AND　NED
CHAPTER　XX　　　　　THE　COW　WE　BOUGHT
CHAPTER　XXI。　　　THE　PARSON　AND　THE　SCONE
CHAPTER　XXII。　　CALLAGHAN'S　COLT
CHAPTER　XXIII。　THE　AGRICULTURAL　REPORTER
CHAPTER　XXIV。　　A　LADY　AT　SHINGLE　HUT
CHAPTER　XXV。　　　THE　MAN　WITH　THE　BEAR…SKIN　CAP
CHAPTER　XXVI。　　CHRISTMAS




On　Our　Selection。



Chapter　I。



Starting　the　Selection。


It's　twenty　years　ago　now　since　we　settled　on　the　Creek。　　Twenty　years！　I　remember　well　the　day　we　came　from　Stanthorpe；　on　Jerome's　drayeight　of　us；　and　all　the　thingsbeds；　tubs；　a　bucket；　the　two　cedar　chairs　with　the　pine　bottoms　and　backs　that　Dad　put　in　them；　some　pint…pots　and　old　Crib。　　It　was　a　scorching　hot　day；　tootalk　about　thirst！　　At　every　creek　we　came　to　we　drank　till　it　stopped　running。

Dad　did　n't　travel　up　with　us：　　he　had　gone　some　months　before；　to　put　up　the　house　and　dig　the　waterhole。　　It　was　a　slabbed　house；　with　shingled　roof；　and　space　enough　for　two　rooms；　but　the　partition　was　n't　up。　　The　floor　was　earth；　but　Dad　had　a　mixture　of　sand　and　fresh　cow…dung　with　which　he　used　to　keep　it　level。　　About　once　every　month　he　would　put　it　on；　and　everyone　had　to　keep　outside　that　day　till　it　was　dry。　　There　were　no　locks　on　the　doors：　　pegs　were　put　in　to　keep　them　fast　at　night；　and　the　slabs　were　not　very　close　together；　for　we　could　easily　see　through　them　anybody　coming　on　horseback。　　Joe　and　I　used　to　play　at　counting　the　stars　through　the　cracks　in　the　roof。

The　day　after　we　arrived　Dad　took　Mother　and　us　out　to　see　the　paddock　and　the　flat　on　the　other　side　of　the　gully　that　he　was　going　to　clear　for　cultivation。　　There　was　no　fence　round　the　paddock；　but　he　pointed　out　on　a　tree　the　surveyor's　marks；　showing　the　boundary　of　our　ground。　　It　must　have　been　fine　land；　the　way　Dad　talked　about　it！　　There　was　very　valuable　timber　on　it；　too；　so　he　said；　and　he　showed　us　a　place；　among　some　rocks　on　a　ridge；　where　he　was　sure　gold　would　be　found；　but　we　were　n't　to　say　anything　about　it。　　Joe　and　I　went　back　that　evening　and　turned　over　every　stone　on　the　ridge；　but　we　did　n't　find　any　gold。

No　mistake；　it　was　a　real　wildernessnothing　but　trees；　〃goannas；〃　dead　timber；　and　bears；　and　the　nearest　houseDwyer'swas　three　miles　away。　I　often　wonder　how　the　women　stood　it　the　first　few　years；　and　I　can　remember　how　Mother；　when　she　was　alone；　used　to　sit　on　a　log；　where　the　lane　is　now；　and　cry　for　hours。　　Lonely！　　It　WAS　lonely。

Dad　soon　talked　about　clearing　a　couple　of　acres　and　putting　in　cornall　of　us　did；　in　facttill　the　work　commenced。　　It　was　a　delightful　topic　before　we　started；；　but　in　two　weeks　the　clusters　of　fires　that　illumined　the　whooping　bush　in　the　night；　and　the　crash　upon　crash　of　the　big　trees　as　they　fell；　had　lost　all　their　poetry。

We　toiled　and　toiled　clearing　those　four　acres；　where　the　haystacks　are　now　standing；　till　every　tree　and　sapling　that　had　grown　there　was　down。　We　thought　then　the　worst　was　over；　but　how　little　we　knew　of　clearing　land！　　Dad　was　never　tired　of　calculating　and　telling　us　how　much　the　crop　would　fetch　if　the　ground　could　only　be　got　ready　in　time　to　put　it　in；　so　we　laboured　the　harder。

With　our　combined　male　and　female　forces　and　the　aid　of　a　sapling　lever　we　rolled　the　thundering　big　logs　together　in　the　face　of　Hell's　own　fires；　and　when　there　were　no　logs　to　roll　it　was　tramp；　tramp　the　day　through；　gathering　armfuls　of　sticks；　while　the　clothes　clung　to　our　backs　with　a　muddy　perspiration。　　Sometimes　Dan　and　Dave　would　sit　in　the　shade　beside　the　billy　of　water　and　gaze　at　the　small　patch　that　had　taken　so　long　to　do；　then　they　would　turn　hopelessly　to　what　was　before　them　and　ask　Dad　（who　would　never　take　a　spell）　what　was　the　use　of　thinking　of　ever　getting　such　a　place　cleared？　　And　when　Dave　wanted　to　know　why　Dad　did　n't　take　up　a　place　on　the　plain；　where　there　were　no　trees　to　grub　and　plenty　of　water；　Dad　would　cough　as　if　something　was　sticking　in　his　throat；　and　then　curse　terribly　about　the　squatters　and　political　jobbery。　He　would　soon　cool　down；　though；　and　get　hopeful　again。

〃Look　at　the　Dwyers；〃　he'd　say；　〃from　ten　acres　of　wheat　they　got　seventy　pounds　last　year；　besides　feed　for　the　fowls；　they've　got　corn　in　now；　and　there's　only　the　two。〃

It　was　n't　only　burning　off！　　Whenever　there　came　a　short　drought　the　waterhole　was　sure　to　run　dry；　then　it　was　take　turns　to　carry　water　from　the　springsabout　two　miles。　　We　had　no　draught　horse；　and　if　we　had　there　was　neither　water…cask；　trolly；　nor　dray；　so　we　humped　itand　talk　about　a　drag！　　By　the　time　you　returned；　if　you　had　n't　drained　the　bucket；　in　spite　of　the　big　drink　you'd　take　before　leaving　the　springs；　more　than　half　would　certainly　be　spilt　through　the　vessel　bumping　against　your　leg　every　time　you　stumbled　in　the　long　grass。　　Somehow；　none　of　us　liked　carrying　water。　　We　would　sooner　keep　the　fires　going　all　day　without　dinner　than　do　a　trip　to　the　springs。

One　hot；　thirsty　day　it　was　Joe's　turn　with　the　bucket；　and　he　managed　to　get　back　without　spilling　very　much。　　We　were　all　pleased　because　there　was　enough　left　after　the　tea　had　been　made　to　give　each　a　drink。　　Dinner　was　nearly　over；　Dan　had　finished；　and　was　taking　it　easy　on　the　sofa；　when　Joe　said：　　

〃I　say；　Dad；　what's　a　nater…dog　like？〃　Dad　told　him：　　〃Yellow；　sharp　ears　and　bushy　tail。〃

〃Those　muster　bin　some　then　thet　I　seenI　do　n't　know　'bout　the　bushy　tailall　th'　hair　had　comed　off。〃　〃Where'd　y'　see　them；　Joe？〃　we　asked。　〃Down　'n　th'　springs　floating　aboutdead。〃

Then　everyone　seemed　to　think　hard　and　look　at　the　tea。　　I　did　n't　want　any　more。　　Dan　jumped　off　the　sofa　and　went　outside；　and　Dad　looked　after　Mother。

At　last　the　four　acresexcepting　the　biggest　of　the　iron…bark　trees　and　about　fifty　stumpswere　pretty　well　cleared；　and　then　came　a　problem　that　could　n't　be　worked…out　on　a　draught…board。　　I　have　already　said　that　we　had　n't　any　draught　horses；　indeed；　the　only　thing　on　the　selection　like　a　horse　was　an　old　〃tuppy〃　mare　that　Dad　used　to　straddle。　　　The　date　of　her　foaling　went　further　back　than　Dad's；　I　believe；　and　she　was　shaped　something　like　an　alderman。　　We　found　her　one　day　in　about　eighteen　inches　of　mud；　with　both　eyes　picked　out　by　the　crows；　and　her　hide　bearing　evidence　that　a　feathery　tribe　had　made　a　roost　of　her　carcase。　　Plainly；　there　was　no　chance　of　breaking　up　the　ground　with　her　help。　　We　had　no　plough；　either；　how　then　was　the　corn　to　be　put　in？　　That　was　the　question。

Dan　and　Dave　sat　outside　in　the　corner　of　the　chimney；　both　scratching　the　ground　with　a　chip　and　not　saying　anything。　　Dad　and　Mother　sat　inside　talking　it　over。　　Sometimes　Dad　would　get　up　and　walk　round　the　room　shaking　his　head；　then　he　would　kick　old　Crib　for　lying