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Authors: Warrigal Anderson

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography/General

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BOOK: Warrigal's Way
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I had to agree. We fell into our jobs as soon as we got out of the car and in no time Ted had heaps of bream fillets on the table. They were terrific, and we all stuffed ourselves—just undid the belt and the top button of our pants and sat and let the fish settle down.

7

Out on the track

It was all go as soon as we got out of bed. We folded our blankets and sheets, rolled up the mattresses and stored them in the cupboard, while Ted got breakfast. A quick breakfast, a quick wash-up, then the final jobs. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to help, but I kept getting underfoot and in the road, and was roared at by Hugh and cuffed in the ear by Ted.

Mike put me in the front of the truck. “Let them buggers do it, mate. You'll be safe here. We're nearly ready anyway.” He grinned and walked off to do I don't know what, but about half an hour later we were ready.

“Right, hop up on the back with Mike, young Warrigal,” Hugh told me. I nipped up into the front compartment, Mike giving me a hand up. I crawled up on swags, bags of horse feed, drums of water, and cartons of tinned tucker, giving Shorty a scratch between the ears on the way. We drove over to the meatworks, through a gate, and down to the dog kennels. Ted and Hugh got out and went over and let three kelpies and four blue cattle dogs off the chain. They tore around, running and knocking each other over, having hijinks. Hugh gave them the time. He rolled and smoked a cigarette, then called them and tossed them up to me and Mike. They would be company for us.

“See that blue feller with the tattered ear, that's Hugh's Bob, a really good dog on a mob, head and heel. And that long-haired black and tan kelpie down there with his tail up and the look in his eye, well, that's my dog, Rocky. He loves a blue and hates Bob, so give us that bit of rope next to you and I'll tie him to the crate, and we'll have some peace.” I handed it to him and he nicked down and tied Bob to one side, and Rocky to the other. “That's sorted that out.” He pointed to two dainty looking blues. “That's Flirt and Fly, wing dogs, good too. The other blue bloke, he's just started runnin'. He's Pat, Flirt's pup from last year. Dunno how he'll go but he'll probably be alright. See that black and tan long-haired kelpie? Yeah, the one with the white feet.” He pointed her out to me.

“Yeah, what about her?” I asked.

“Best eye dog in Queensland,” Mike told me with pride. “Hugh could of sold her for big bikkies but no way will he part with her. The other one's Jessie's pup, Skipper. He'll eye too. Ted's had him on the ducks and chooks and he's a boomer. Artie said he was working the poddy calves, so he's goin' to be alright. Be a real good dog if he turns out as good as his mum.”

We were really on the way now, and everything was great. The horses were quiet, the dogs a bit restless. It was a nice sunny day, and we just sat up on top of the swags and watched the country pass by, gum trees and red dirt, an occasional roo. I saw two dingos just standing at the side of the road, beautiful yellow dogs. Of course, our dogs got the scent and started barking and jumping up the side of the crate, going spare. The horses started to get a bit nervy, tossing their heads and stamping, so we reached in and stroked the ones we could reach, and talked to the others. We sang them “buttons and bows” and the dogs helped us with barks and howls, till the boys stopped the truck and we all had a fit of laughing. It was about nine-thirty, so we decided to brew up a billy of tea.

“Macrossan's just up the road. We might stop there and give the horses a drink, a feed and a stretch. Do the dogs good too. You separate Bob and Rocky?” Hugh asked with a big grin. “I wouldn't put up with it if they weren't such good bloody dogs.”

The dogs had got down with Mike and me and had a drink from the buckets of water Ted put out for them.

We made sure the fire was out, stowed the gear, called the dogs aboard, and we were under way again. We stopped at Sellhim instead of Macrossan and unloaded the horses, putting a headstall on them, hobbling them and giving them a drink. We let them pick about while we fed the dogs and watered them, then got stuck into the Vegemite sandwiches Ted had made. I grabbed one of the sandwiches and it was full of sugary stuff that dripped all over the place, sticky as stink.

“What's this stuff?” I asked Mike, I was covered in it.

“That's golden syrup, the old cocky's joy,” he said.

I was getting right into, this cocky's joy, it was real good tucker. It was made from sugar cane, Mike told me. I'd seen paddocks full of cane, like corn with no cobs. You wouldn't think you could get something like this from it. Sugar too, scientific alright. I could hear the boys arguing over the way to go. Or at least Ted and Hugh were. Mike is like me—we just want to get there.

“What the hell's the difference?” he said to them both. “The roads are all shithouse once you get to the end of the tar. Christ, you both know that. If we go out through Greenvale, through Einasleigh, Forsayth, and up onto the development road, then down to Esmeralda, it'll be less jaw-breakin' than goin' out through Hughenden and Richmond. Big heap of real bum-killin' corrugations, once you turn left of Richmond. We gotta take the mob back around the ranges through Forsayth way, so we might as well go that way and see what the country's like. You stocked the paddocks that way anyway. Eh, Ted?”

“Yeah, that's what I'm tryin' to tell him. The Greenvale road is excellent right through, right to the Esmerelda turn-off.”

“Well, there you are, brother. I vote with Ted. If we're coming back that way, it's only sense. You are just bein' pigheaded and jackin' up to get your own way,” Mike said to Hugh. “You got a sheila in Richmond or what?”

“He's a dark one alright, Michael. Bit like a sailor, except he's got a girl in each town instead of each port,” ribbed Ted.

“Alright you pair of bloody wingnuts, let's not start rumours. You've had your win. I can't fight both of you, plus common sense. We'll go through Greenvale.” Hugh laughed. “Jeez, it's givin' me a terrible headache getting you mob to agree with me.”

Hugh stood and threw the dregs of tea out of his pannikin into the fire, then dowsed the fire with what was left in the billy, to the hoots and chiacking from the boys. We loaded the horses, called up the dogs, and got under way again. Mike and I had made ourselves a pretty comfortable seat with the swags and were leaning on the rail of the crate watching the country flow past.

“What do you think of this country?” Mike asked.

“You fair dinks?” I asked him.

“Yeah, come on, what do you think?”

“Gum trees and red dirt, what else would I think. It's junk, just like anywhere else.” I looked at him and he was laughing his head off.

“You know, mate?” he said. “There's more money per square mile out here than all of Brisbane and Sydney combined.”

“Get out, I can't believe that. You're pullin' my leg. Look at it, just red dirt and gums.”

“Yeah, but it's what's under that red dirt—iron ore, bauxite, gold, and dozens of minerals we never heard of. Then there's timber. You know, they got a tree out here
that's worth that much money the government has special people licensed to get it. It's got scented wood people all around the world go mad for, and the tree has an oil they get too, and make scent and stuff out of it. Yep, it's a bit more than red dirt and gums.”

“Well, I don't know. You're probably right, but I still see gums and dirt.”

Mike looked at his watch and said we'd be in Greenvale in another half an hour, where we'd stop, give the horses and dogs a feed and a stretch, and have a feed at the pub ourselves. “A big steak with all the trimmings will go down a real treat just at the moment.”

I had to agree. The cocky's joy had worn off and I was feelin' a bit hollow-gutted.

We sat in silence for a good time and just watched the scrub go past. The dogs started to get restless, and because they did, the horses started.

“Ah, there it is,” said Mike.

“What?” I asked.

“The two-mile board for the pub,” said Mike.

What seemed like hours later, the engine noise got lower as Ted changed gear, and the truck started to slow down. We had pulled into a clearing about a hundred yards from the pub. Mike and I jumped off and Mike kept Rocky on his rope and tied to a tree while the others went for a run, stretching and tumbling over themselves, having great fun.

Rocky looked at us and whinged his head off. “No,” Mike told him. “If you weren't such an evil-tempered bugger you could go for a run, but you can't be trusted. Christ, you know he nearly got us hung in Hughenden last time we were there. We were camped at the railway yards, and I let him off for a run. He was away for a while, then he turned up with this chook in his gob. Bloody thing was still alive, cackling and yodelling—and no wonder, that bugger had pierced it with his teeth. We had about a hundred cranky townies all wanting to kill him. Geez, I tell you that cost
Hugh a pretty quid. He had to pay for the chook and shout a million or two beers up the pub to calm the screaming hordes. That was a real dilly that one, eh brother?” We could see what was coming next, so we all shouted with him, “I'd shoot the bugger if he wasn't so good!” We all roared laughing, to the amazement of the couple of locals who were watching us from the pub veranda.

We quickly dropped the back ramp and unloaded the horses, fed and watered them, put their headstalls on, and tied them on a long rope so they could pick about while we went over to the pub for a feed.

We got steak and two eggs, some bread and a cup of tea. Hugh decided we might as well stay the night, so while the boys went and had a beer, I saddled up Shorty, took the head rope of the first two horses and led them up the road for a walk. I took them about a mile out, then back, then took the next two, then finally the third pair. I left Hugh's stallion as he was a bit touchy around other people. I unsaddled Shorty and gave him a quick brush, and then decided to give them all a brush with the curry comb as they all loved it. It took about an hour, and it was just dropping twilight as I finished. I tied up all the dogs and made sure they had water, getting a bite on my hand from Rocky for my trouble. I was getting a bit worried that the boys hadn't turned up, so I decided to go over to the pub to see what was up.

“G'day mate. I was just coming to get you,” said Hugh. “We're gunna stay at the pub tonight rather than pull the swags off the truck. Come and wash up for tea. We can square the camp away after.”

I told him I had already done it, and told him what I had done.

“You done well, mate. The only thing we'll have to do after tea is put Flynn in the crate. He can't be trusted on a rope.”

“Flynn. That's a funny name for a horse,” I said to Hugh.

He laughed, “Nah, I called him after the biggest stallion of all, Errol Flynn.”

He walked to the washroom with me, his hand on my shoulder, and left me at the door. “Come down the passage and to the last door on your right when you're ready, right?” I had a wash and followed my nose, and found the boys sitting down at the table just rescuing a giant plate of steak, eggs, fried tomatoes and onions, as the waitress was about to dive on Mike in a self-destruct mode.

“Christ, we should throw you on the back of the truck with poor bloody Flynn. You're worse than that bloody horse. It's disgusting,” said Ted. “What if the boss's wife caught your act.”

Hugh laughed. “Ted, that is the boss's wife. He's down in Brisbane.”

Mike was just sitting back with a grin on his face. “Anyway,” he said to Ted, “I can't help it if they go for my good looks and boyish charm, and lust after my body.” He laughed and took a drink of his beer.

“Get out, you liar, you used to go with her before she was married. You gonna come a big cropper one day, like run into a husband with a big knife or a bloody big gun,” said Ted.

“You're just jealous,” laughed Mike, getting up. “See you later, or in the morning.”

“Be early, we leave at dawn,” said Hugh.

Mike just waved as he went out the door. The boys went into the bar and I went and sat on the veranda where I could hear the radio. The show “Take it from here” was on, and I liked it as it was prety funny. At about a quarter to nine Hugh came out and took me around and showed me where to sleep.

“That's Mike's bed. He might not come in, but don't worry. You know Mike, he'll just sleep somewhere else.” It took me quite a few years to twig what Mike got up to. I don't know whether he came to bed or not as I went out
like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow, and didn't move until Hugh shook me awake in the dark.

“Are you right, mate? Cup of tea and a feed in the lounge, then we're off.”

“What about loading?” I asked.

“All done. You put them to bed, so Ted and I got them up. They're all fed and watered and aboard.”

So we had breakfast and got under way, Mike staggered out as we were firing up the truck. Bleary-eyed he climbed aboard, made a nest and went to sleep straight off. I sat up front and watched the dawn come up. I vowed that if I had kids, a sunrise in the bush is one thing I'd show them.

With the daylight came the heat and so off came the jacket and jersey, and in just shirt sleeves and the wind blowing through, I was quite comfortable. About an hour later we were at the turn-off to Einasleigh, and the old argument began—should we take the better road up through Conjuboy to the turn-off to Mt Surprise and down the beef road, or the short road through Einasleigh?

“Bugger it, turn left,” said Mike.

“That's the way we're bringin' the cattle. If the road's too rough we can take it easy. You don't know what the beef road's like anyway. We could go up there and find out it hasn't been graded for generations. Bloke I was talking to in the pub reckoned it was rank. He'd just come down it. Nah, bugger it, turn left.”

So we turned left and drove through The Lynd, and eventually we staggered into sight of Einasleigh, eyes rolling, bodies twitching, holding our hands under our jawbones to protect our knees. Don't get me wrong, the road couldn't have been that bad. The people in town reckon we've got the worst bit to go yet!

BOOK: Warrigal's Way
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