They always slept out of doors. In the intense heat it was no
hardship, and the huts, as a rule, fairly jumped with fleas. Once
they camped alongside a big lagoon, on whose surface were huge pink
and blue water-lilies and rushes, and vast flocks of wild fowl.
After the stretches of blazing plain and dull timber this glimpse
of water was inexpressibly refreshing.
On their way back they struck new country, great stretches of almost
impenetrable scrub, tropical jungle, and belts of bamboo. In this
cover wild cattle evidently abounded, for they frequently heard
the bellow of the bulls.
"There should be a terrible lot of wild cattle here," said Charlie.
"Don't you ever get any out of the scrubs?"
"Oh, yes, we moonlight for 'em." said Considine. "We take coachers
out. We have a very fair coaching mob. Some of our coachers are as
quick as racehorses, and they'll hustle wild cattle away from the
scrub just as if they understood."
"What do you mean by coachers?" asked Carew. "Not cattle that go
in carts, eh?"
"Carts, no. The way we get wild cattle here-abouts is to take out
a mob of quiet cattle, what we call coachers, and let 'em feed in
the moonlight alongside the scrub, while we wait back out o' the
road and watch 'em. When the wild cattle come out, they run over
to see the coachers, and we dash up and cut 'em off from the scrub,
and hustle 'em together into the open. It's good sport, Mister.
We might try a dash at it, if you like, before we go back; it's
moonlight now."
"Let's have a try to-night" said Gordon. "Are your coachers handy?"
"Yairs. They feed near the house. I'll send 'em on with the gins
to-night."
When they got back that evening, Carew was so dead-tired that he
wished the wild cattle expedition at Jericho. But Considine and
Charlie were in great form, directing, arguing, and planning the
expedition. One of the black boys rode out, and returned driving
a big mob of horses that dashed into the yard at full gallop. The
gins and the black boys caught fresh mounts out of these and started
away, driving some fifty head of cattle selected from a mob that
made their headquarters within a few miles of the house. Most of them
were old stagers, and strung away in the evening quite tranquilly,
while the blacks, always smoking, rode listlessly after. Considine
produced two stockwhips, and gave one to Charlie.
"No good givin' you one. Mister," he said to Carew. "You'd hang
yourself with it most likely. I've got a rare good horse for
you--old Smoked Beef. He'd moonlight cattle by himself, I believe.
You'd better have a pistol, though."
"What for?" asked Carew, as Considine produced three very heavy
navy revolvers and a bag of cartridges.