Pals: Young Australians in Sport and Adventure

by Carol Norton

  *CHAPTER XXI*

  *THE WARRIGAL'S STRATEGY*

  "Hast thou given the horse his might? Hast thou clothed his neck with the quivering mane?

  * * * * *

  The glory of his snorting is terrible. He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength. He goeth out to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear and is not dismayed.

  * * * * *

  He smelleth the battle afar off: The thunder of the captains, and the shouting." JOB.

  "Noo, men, we'll be on the move."

  The leader sprang to his horse and directed him on to the plain.

  "Where do you expect to pick 'em up, Mac?"

  "Micht sicht them at ony minute, maybe no' for hours; maybe no' at a',Captain."

  "Willy and Jacky, you gang on aheed and keep your een weel peeled forsigns. No sae fast, lads; mustna spoil the sport at the stairt. Letthe blacks get weel aheed. We maun sicht them afore they tak alairm, orit'll be a hopeless stern chase."

  Joe, Tom, and Sandy, greatly to their delight, were with the "flyingcolumn." Yellow Billy was with the trap contingent, while Jimmy Flynnwas stationed with Mr. Gill in the iron-bark clump. Neville, at hisearnest request, was given a place with Mr. M'Intyre.

  As soon as he touched the myall country, the leader cautiously skirtedit, until the party were well out and away from the range of hills thatcontinued on the eastern side. He then took an inward course, and madea slant which carried them back to the foot-hills.

  So far there was neither sight nor sound of the mob, nor were there anyindications of their presence at any recent date. From the range baseanother tack was taken, which brought them upon the edge of a scrub thathad wedged itself into the plain. By this time the column had covered alot of ground.

  "We'll fringe the timber for a while, and then, if we've nae luck, we'llhae to divide; half to go into the ranges, and the other to keep richtalong the plain. Keep weel in, lads, we'll cut that pint," continuedthe leader, as the men moved on through the outer fringe of scrub; whileout on the plain, which was dotted with rosewood and myall clumps, theblack boys moved with lithe and stealthy movements.

  "Father, I hear a whistle!"

  "Hist, men! quiet all o' ye!"

  "There it's again!" exclaimed Sandy after a moment's silence, as a lowwhistle came from the plain. "That's Jacky's whistle, dad, sure enough.I'd know it among a thousand----"

  "A' richt, my boy. Jacky's got something. We'll move oot quietly andsee."

  Wheeling to the right, the column soon arrived at the spot indicated byJacky's whistle. The black boy stood by the side of his horse, pointingto some fresh droppings and to numerous hoof-tracks.

  "What is it, Jacky?" exclaimed Mr. M'Intyre as the men rode up.

  "Blendy brumby bin here, Boss, few minutes ago."

  The tracks and signs were so fresh that, as the black said, it was onlythe question of a few minutes since they occupied the spot.

  "Most fortunate we've got ahint them. They're near by. At ony momentwe micht sicht them. Ye'll fa' into a doubble column, men. Captain,ye'll tak seeven men and I'll keep the ithers. We'll hae twa columns ahunder yairds apairt."

  In this fashion the men proceeded slowly, with a black boy ahead of eachcolumn as a scout, and following the tracks of the brumbies. Aspredicted, in a few minutes Willy held up a warning hand.

  The columns quickly closed up to the scouts, and their leaders saw,through the willow-like branches of a myall clump, the long-sought-formob. The horses were standing close together in an expectant attitude.Their suspicions were aroused. Though they had not scented the wind oftheir pursuers, nevertheless, with that wonderful _something_ so commonin wild things, they _felt_ the enemy's presence.

  The intervening distance was about three hundred yards. According toarrangement, each column opened out at its head, with the object ofoutflanking the horses. Silently the columns wheeled to the left andright sharply, and then moved forward. While in the act of executingthis tactic their presence was detected, and scanned in a moment. Then,with a snort, or rather a fusilade of snorts and neighs, heads erected,manes and tails streaming, away flew the alarmed steeds; and in swiftpursuit, maintaining their formation, the men followed.

  There was no intention of unduly alarming the brumbies, therefore allshoutings and stock-whip crackings were restrained. And now the huntersbegin to feel the ardour of the chase, both horses and men; for so eagerwere the station horses to join in the hunt that the riders were obligedto take a double pull on them.

  Neville, in the excitement of the raid, forgot the orders, and broke hisline, making a rush for the tail of the flying mob. The Captain,however, nipped his intention in the bud with a few red-hot expletives,ordering the Englishman back to his place in the line.

  The brumbies, when started, were about eight miles from the wing, andheaded directly for it, going off from the jump with a fine burst. Thewily warrigal, however, was not going to be run off his legs in a spurt;in a short time the breakneck pace is moderated, and the straggling mobclose up.

  The horsemen hung on the flanks of the galloping steeds, steadying intoan accommodating pace, and, as previously directed, making a semicircle,whose points extended beyond the sides of the retreating animals. Thestation mares were in the mob, capering for the moment as wildly as anyin their company. Tallboy lagged somewhat in the rear. He hadevidently received scant courtesy from the brumbies. It was observedthat his heart was not in this matter. Had they wished, the horsemencould easily have cut him out of the mob.

  The flying steeds--about fifty, young and old--had covered abouttwo-thirds of the distance to the terminal point of the wing, and hadnot once swerved from this direction. The men were in high glee. Sofar it was nothing more than an exhilarating gallop, and they kept upthe formation beautifully. The horses, too, although the day was veryhot, had not yet shown any sign of distress. It was a different thingwith some of the hunted animals, however. There were some very oldstock among the mares. The pace and the heat combined were tellingheavily upon them, and they that rode could read.

  One of these was a chronic "roarer," and her distressed gasps wereplainly heard above the thunder of the hoof. Two of the mares began tolag in a palpable manner, despite the encouraging whinneying of thestallion, as he turned from side to side with a troubled look.

  They who belittle the intelligence of animals, and treat them as lackingheart and soul, can have had little experience of their nature and ways.The old sheik of the wilderness was full of concern for his many wives.Love, despite all that the poets may say, is not blind; it is open-eyedand alert. Had he been alone the warrigal would have snorted at hisfoes with the utmost disdain, and led them such a dance as not all theirimaginings had ever conceived. But, alas! some at least of his faithfulones would be overtaken; were even now in peril. Desertion? Never!

  Rescue! but how? Yes; he will plan, he will outwit. He will usestrategy against strategy, and at once, by which he may draw thesemerciless foes from the weaklings and give them an opportunity ofescape.

  Quickening his pace, he raced along, closely followed by hiscompany--save some half-dozen of the more exhausted mares, who were nowwidely separated from their mates. Then, wheeling sharply, the flyingsquadron dashed across the plain towards the foot-hills in a furiousgallop.

  Divining his altered tactics, the Captain and M'Intyre increased theirspeed, taking no notice of the hindermost horses, and closely watchingthe head and ruck of the flying squadron.

  On, on! in mad gallop, whip and spur going freely now, sped the huntedand the hunters; and as they suddenly dashed across the face of theCaptain's column, it seemed as if nothing human could stay their flight.The bold Captain and his men, however, nothing daunted nor surprised,wheeled a little more to the left, having some advantage in being wellout, as well as being high up on the brumbies' flanks.

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nbsp; "Now, boys," cried Captain White, "head 'em, rush 'em!" Saying which,he rode straight for the stallion's head--who was leading--with four menpounding at his heels. It was a splendid attempt to head the mob, andsucceeded save with one exception. That exception was the warrigal!

  The bunch of men hurled themselves on the leader, and had he not swervedthere would have been a terrific impact, which might have spelleddisablement or death to more than one. When a man's blood is up inriotous chase he joyously challenges death in ways that chill him to thebone in cool blood.

  The grey demon, however, swerved to the right with tremendous speed, andthe Captain crossed his course within a couple of feet of his stern; hisonly revenge being a savage cut with his whip across the retreatinganimal's flanks. But if the men's rush failed with the leader, theystopped the stampede of his immediate followers.

  Floss and Jeannie, who were hard on the heels of the warrigal, wereintercepted and turned. The stock whips, cracking like a blaze ofmusketry, played upon the ruck of the confused animals in mercilessfashion, scoring their flanks and ribs. In a few seconds they weredriven, pell-mell, back to the line of retreat. In the meantime thoseimmediately behind the mob, and those on the right flank, kept thebalance going and together. Thus the defeated ones regained theirfellows, discomforted, and not a little cowed, in their leaderlesscondition.

  And what of the warrigal?

  To continue the chase of him were only to knock the horses up infruitless pursuit. No! he must be abandoned. With liberty uncurtailedlet him roam the wilds, fancy free. The station runaways remain, aswell as others that will be of value and service.

  So wisely reasoned man, but not so the warrigal. Foiled in his purpose,regardless of his own pursuit, the great equine leader wheeled in a widecircle, uttering the while shrill neighs to attract his consorts. 'Tisfor naught, however, that he utters challenge to his enemies and appealto his mates. The stockmen have ringed the mob, and now at a slowerpace they continue the drive; the men opening out, and keeping abreastthe leading horses.

  And now the iron-bark clump is near at hand. To this the enragedstallion gallops. The wing men, on the alert, watch this lastmanoeuvre, and line out to intercept him should he make for the hills.Such was not his intention, though; and their appearance onlyaccelerates the execution of his determination, which was simply toregain his companions; this he did with a rush, no one saying nay.

  M'Intyre and his men were careful not to push the driven beasts, butwere content to let them make the pace. And now at a swingingcanter--old mares well up, despite all fatigue---they struck the clump,and passed the point to which the wing extended. The wing men, joiningin the cavalcade by orders of their leader, pass to the right flank andreinforce the drivers there.

  They are now within half a mile of the trap. At a preconcerted signalthe men close up, and amid an unceasing fusilade of stock-whip crackingsthe beasts are hustled, the rear men flogging up the lagging ones.

  The calico wing acts effectually on the one side, allowing a strong lineto form up on the other. Barring accidents, the hunt is as good asfinished; for in a moment or two the horses will be entering the trapmouth.

  The outlaw is leading the mob in a direct line for the yard. But, stay!His keen eyes sight the fence. _It is a trap_! Past adventures floodhis recollection and shape judgment and determination. Inside the trap,death or slavery! Outside, liberty!

  Is it too late? No! By the ashes of his fathers he will elude hiswould-be captors! His faithful spouses, naught, alas! will save them.Let those who dare follow him! Away, then!

  With a wild rush, when within some two hundred yards of the trap mouth,he turns swiftly to the right at a tangent, so as to head his enemiesand cut away on the outside of the fence.

  The gallant grey well deserves his freedom. His courage, devotion, andintelligence should surely prevail upon the men. But the pursuers werenot indulging in any sentiment just then, and as soon as his last tacticwas revealed the race of interception was begun. He might yet haveescaped, for he was full of running, but, alas! the unseen foe!

  The five men detailed at the trap mouth, were grouped thereat, justbehind a cluster of silver wattles, ready for any emergency. It seemedto them that their services would not be required.

  But, see! the warrigal!

  There is no time to reason. In a flash they streak out from cover andride straight at the flying barb. Something must happen. The fearfulimpact, narrowly escaped but an hour ago, occurs. There is no attempton either side to avoid the issue. With a mighty bound and a savagesnap of his teeth the warrigal flings himself at the foremost, bringinghorse and rider down with a crash, both lying motionless upon the plain.

  At the same moment, and scarce a length behind, came Yellow Billy. Hisattempt to head the runaway was blocked by the impact of the steeds.Too near to swerve, his horse struck the leading beast on thehind-quarters at the moment of the crash, adding to the confusion, andcoming down a cropper.

  Staggered by the violent collision, the stallion is brought to a suddenstop, but not to the ground. And now an astounding thing happens.Yellow Billy, while falling with his steed, to save himself from thewarrigal's feet clutched frantically at that animal's mane, and, by aclever vault, to the amazement of his comrades, sprang upon the outlaw'sback.

  It would be hard to say if at that particular moment the horse himselfwas cognisant of the act. The pause covered but the fraction of asecond. With a bound he leaped the fallen bodies, and, there being noone in front to stay him, tore off in a direction that skirted the trapfence.