81

Keminiscences of North , 1862-1878.

BY W. H. CORFIELD.

'{Read at a Meeting of the Society on ISth August, 1920).

To say that in the year 1862 Queensland was an unexplored country, gives but a slight idea of what was unknown of the great outside. In this year, I landed in the New Colony, and took employment with my uncle, who held some pastoral country a little to the S.W. of what in later years became known as the Isis Scrub, one of the great sugar districts of this State. The country held by him was known as Stanton Harcourt, and on it he was running sheep and cattle. On my arrival at the station, I found he was absent seeking country to which he might remove the sheep. These were dying in numbers from foot-rot, grass-seed, and other causes. In this search he was unsuccessful, but a later period he bought some country in the Bourke district, to which the sheep were removed in 1864. With these sheep, after I had a short training on the station, I went as second-in-charge. It is on this trip I would like to commence this paper. Our route was from Stanton Harcourt, through Gayndah, where Mr. John Connolly, lately deceased at an age well over a hundred years, was already in business, thence through Hawkwood and Taroom, Springsure and Clermont. At this last-mentioned place, we had the first shearing on the road, the wool being sent to, as it was called. Port Mackay. We started after shearing, slowly running Mistake Creek down to its junction with the Belyando , where we had a second shearing, this wool being sent to Bowen. Thence following the Belyando down to its junction with the Suttor, thence running westerly up the Cape River. At about where the township of Torren's Creek now is, we found a large number of dead sheep, and heard later that about 10,000 had been poisoned by the pea-bush. Fortunately, we got through with a loss of 40 in one night. Probably it was because 82 we passed when the bush was not in bloom. When it is in flower the plant is very poisonous, and great care must be taken when passing through it. At this time, however, its dangerous character against stock was not realised. Finally, we reached our destination on the FUnders River, where we immediately set ourselves towards erecting th& improvements necessary for the carrying-on of a sheep station. It will be perceived that on the whole of our trip we were skirting on the eastern side of what is known as the Desert. We did not dare to enter it, and it was not until we had struck the Downs about the locality of what is known as " Jardine Valley," that we realised what good sheep country meant. Some of this country was partially settled ; Hughenden, Marathon, Telemon, and other runs were being stocked with sheep. Even then we did not realise what magnificent country lay for hundreds of miles to the southward of our route. Rain had not fallen for some time, and few men had the temerity to venture into the waterless country to seek the unknown, and the impression existed that the whole country south, with the exception of a strip along the FUnders River, was a Desert. Some years afterwards I met a carrier in Townsville, who told me that in the year 1866, when searching for lost horses, he was many miles south of the Flinders, and a& far as he could see, it was the same country of rolling open downs, brown loamy soil, and heavily grassed. Shortly afterwards he went in a generally southern direction, and struck a large river coming from the north. He there marked his initials on a tree. In 1881, I found the tree, with his initial " C." This was at a spot on the , between Dagworth and Kynuna stations. Had he struck the river a few miles above the latter place, he would have found it coming from the west. If he had been on official explorations, he might then have reported the river as flowing due east, and made a mistake similar to that made by Major Mitchell in regard to the , or, as he called it, the Victoria River. This man was evidently on the river some time in 1866, but did not think it was of much importance to say what the country was, or give any information about it. ' Messrs. William Landsborough and George PhilUps (who is still amongst us*), left Bowen in January, 1866, and going a little south of west through the desert country, came on Bowen Downs, which was then being stocked. Still going west, towards the end of February following,

* Mr. George Phillips died on 2nd June, 1921. 83 they struck the head of a river which they ran down in a westerly direction until it junctioned with a large river coming from the north, to which they gave the name of Diamantina. They ran this river up in a northerly direction for some distance, when they left it to continue their northerly route to Burketown. This would take them across magnificent, although to a certainty, almost waterless plains between the Diamantina and Flinders . This, my friend the carrier, probably in the same year, had struck further north. I have not read Mr. PhiUips' official report, so I cannot say if he realised the magnificent country through which he had passed. I should expect, from what I know of his ability, that he would have noted the country, but in a series of letters published in the Brisbane Telegraph a year or so ago, he aUudes to his discovery of the Western and Diamantina Rivers in quite a casual way. Perhaps after travelUng through such an area of similar country, he took the result of his work as just an every-day occurrence. The settlement of this portion of Western Queensland was effected by southern and central investors, rather than from the north. It was many years before the great waterless country, from the course of the Flinders towards the south, was opened up. This was not done until immense sums of public and private money were spent in water development. Even the gradual extension northwards from Blackall and Tambo did not open the eyes of seekers for country to what existed ; and it is related that when Mr. J. F. Barry, who first took up grazing country on the head of the Western River, described what he had seen, his information was laughed at and scorned. This country, which is now held as one of the finest sheep properties in Western Queensland, he called " Vindex," and his reports were proved to be quite true. I would like to quote what an American scientist, writing of deserts, in a book called " Polar and Tropical Worlds," published in 1877, says :—" Perhaps the most absolute desert tract on the face of the globe, is that which occupies the interior of the great Island, or, as it may not improperly be styled. Continent of . The Island has an area of something more than 3,000,000 of square miles, nearly equal in extent to Europe. For the greater part of its circumference it is bounded by a continuous range of mountains or highlands, nowhere rising to a great height and for long distances, consisting of plateaux or tablelands. There is, however, a continuous range of water shed which is never broken 84 through, and which never recedes any great distance irom the coast. The habitable portions of Australia are limited to the slopes of the mountains and the narrow space between them and the sea. The interior, as far as is •inown, or can be inferred from physical geography, is an immense depressed plain, more hopelessly barren ahd uninhabitable. than the great desert of Sahara." These authorities say niore on this imaginary description. This quotation is sufficient to show that even scientists do not know everything, although one might believe that they did. Now these statements were published 10 years after Mr. PhiUips had been some bundreds of miles inland from the narrow habitable strip which was supposed to exist along the coast. Owing to its geographica-l position, TownsviUe, which did so little for the development of Western Queensland, draws a considerable portion of the trade of that country through it, and Rockhampton, which did so much, gets but little of it. I mean that part, of Queensland north and west of the central railway, and out to the western border of the State. After a year or two on my relation's property, I became dissatisfied with my position, and as I was suffering from malaria in a bad foi-m, I decided to return to England, and left the station •with a man from Canobie, the adjoining property. I started for TownsviUe, more famUiarly known as " The Bay." The Cape River diggings meanwhile having broken out, we decided to try our luck, and search for gold. This we struck fairly rich . in a claim which we had taken up at a depth of 100 feet. We then decided taking up a second claim which I should work. This •was much shaUower in depth, but after getting on good gold, I found it was too much for one man. We took an old hand as a third partner in this -claim, but I found that "while to the eye the dirt was exactly the same, yet when the final eleaning-up was done, there was considerably less gold. This gradually diminished. In disgust, I threw the claim up, and •wi'fch my first partner, started fbr TownsviUe to enter into carrying, as the rates were high. On the way down this man made arrangements to go with a team we met on the road, so I went on to Townsville alone. Later, I heard that our third partner had boasted how he had so manipulated the washing that he was able to secure over £500 worth of gold when I was with him, and struck better gold in the claim when I threw it up. This was a vety rare examj)le of dishonesty among diggers, who were ,as a riile, sMetly sttaight-forward in titeir deaUhgs wlih •those -with whom they were working as parttters or mates. 85 In later days, both as carrier and in business, I had many partners, and I invariably found them all to be loyal and honest to me, as I can say, without egotism, I was to them. Such partnerships were very common and held good only by mutual agreement. Invariably, when the partnership was ended, it was because the mates on either side would desire a change, without any real dissatisfaction or disagreement. Many such partnerships having large interests were based simply on this mutual trust. It is peculiar that of two in particular, the partners were in both instances, EngUsh, Irish and Scottish. Old hands of northern fields will know the two firms or partnerships to which I allude. Having secured a team in Townsville, I, with a man named Wilson as my mate, was carrying for some time between Townsville and the Gilbert River. To explain the difficulties of travelling, I recall an instance where we left. Townsville in December, hoping to arrive at the Gilbert before the wet set in. This season it broke earlier than usual, and we found ourselves caught. While camped at the Broken River we made a punt, which we utihsed in putting foot passengers across. One day. Inspector Clohesy, in charge of the gold escort, having over 3,000 ounces of gold, arrived. We brought him, the escort, and the gold safely across, for which Mr. Clohesy warmly thanked us. One evening, a man came into camp on foot, and inquired if we knew a man named Ripley, who, he said, was his brother. We told him of the latter's where­ abouts on the field. He informed us that he left Ireland on a day in December, which was the same day as that on which we left Townsville, so he had made better progress across thousands of miles from the other side of the world than we had on a few hundred from Townsville. In the early part of 1873, Hann's report as to his having found payable gold on a river he had named the " Palmer," was made public* Immediately a rush set in for the new field. My mate and I bought two loads of stores from Clifton and Aplin on the Etheridge, for the Palmer, which we reached some months later. Hann was a thorough bushman, but on this trip he was evidently far out in his localities. On page 13 of his report, at date 19th September, 1872, it appears he had been following the up for some days until he reached a range, which he considered as the water-

* 'See Queensland Votes and Proceedings, 1873, for full text of the report; and Mr. Harris' Diary, pp. 1031-1070, with Map (2 sheets). 86 shed dividing the Normanby and Endeavour Rivers. In this he made his first mistake. The watershed of the Endeavour is many miles further north, and there is only a short distance from the Normanby to the head waters of the Endeavour, as can easily be seen by surveys made since his time. Crossing this range, and foUowing an easterly course, he struck a large creek, to which he gave the name of Oakey Creek. This he travelled down until on the 21st, he found himself on the banks of a large river running north. He states that " this river was, of course, the Endeavour, of which so much has been heard from time to time." This was a second mistake. The Endeavour runs generaUy west to east, and empties itself further north into an estuary which forms a safe, if small, harbour on which Cooktown is founded. As a matter of fact, he was now on the , which faUs into Walker's Bay, which is wide, shaUow, and exposed. He states he could not find any trace of where Captain Cook careened his ship, but found remains of one of Captain Towns' fish-curing camps. He condemned the locaHty from all sides, After camping here some days, and making a few explorations which confirmed his first impressions, he left the locaUty on 25th September, following up what he still persists in saying was the Endeavour until, striking a spur of Mount Cook, he had to re-cross the river. Now had he been foUowing up the Endeavour, he would be going almost west, instead of south and at right angles to his route up the Normanby. He would be leaving Mt, Cook behind his left shoulder, and the Endeavour would be too wide to cross, except by canoes or by boats. He was now getting into, the bigh, broken country from which the Annan, and on the opposite side, the Bloomfield, head. The river he refers to was entered from the sea by Dalrymple a few months later. The latter named it the Annan, a left-hand branch joining it close to the sea, being named the Esk. Hann would appear to have been on the Esk also, when camped in the locality, as he aUudes to such, a river. There is no flowing into the Endeavour so near its embouchure. Hann's narrative of the manner in which he extricated his party safely through the difficult country at the heads of the Bloomfield and Daintree, stamps him as a brave, patient, and resourceful bushman. He was a personal friend of mine ; I do not disparage him, but rather wish to show one of those who blazed the trail for others, and the difficulties and dangers under which such men did their work. Hann, however, had a 87 surveyor in his party, and it is a puzzle why he, at any rate, did not set his leader right. Dalrymple, a little later, explored the rivers north from Cardwell, and his work also was carried out under great difficulties. I only tnow of one copy of Dabymple's narrative of his explorations now in print, and that is among the Parliamentary records.* It is a pity that some of the reports of early explorations cannot be re-published for the information of the present generation. I venture to say very few of these know of Kennedy, Landsborough, MuUigan, Hodgkinson, the Jardines, and many others who would have their work, if done in America, recorded in all the school-books of that country. Going back to my own experiences :—^We had a very •exciting trip passing Fossilbrook, Mt. Surprise, and Firth's stations. Crossing the Lynd, Tate, Walsh, and MitcheU Rivers, all of which were running strong. When we arrived at the Walsh, two horse teams had been camped there for a fortnight, and the owners told us the river was uncrossable. After putting the bullocks on grass, my mate, who was a splendid bushman, rode into the river. The water being clear, he was able to zig-zag a sand bank, avoiding deep water, and found we could get the waggons across by putting the goods on the guard rails. This we did that night unknown to the owners of the other teams, who were camped farther on, but out of sight. In the morning we yoked up and passed them, stating we were going to attempt "the crossing. This, they declared, was impossible, but came down to see us make the attempt. We only had our shirts on, and rode our horses bare-back. We made the crossing successfully, and camped on the northern bank. The river came down again that night, and delayed the horse teams another week. When we reached the Mitchell River, we found there were 40 teams of all sorts and sizes waiting to cross. The next day my mate declared the river was fordable, and we led the way, followed by the others. Quite a iittle village of people of both sexes camped that night on the north side of the Mitchell. Our troubles were now •over, and we had 30 miles of easy travelling, past Mount Mulgrave, to the . There was such a quantity of stores arriving at the one time that we could not dispose of ours, so it was arranged that Wilson should take his team to Cooktown, and purchase a load jointly

* Narrative and Reports of the Queensland North East Coast Ex­ pedition, 1873. Queensland Votes and Proceedings, 1874, A'ol. 2, pp. 615- 667, and Map. 88 for us, and that I remain, put up a tarpaulin store for the goods, and dispose of them as opportunity offered. To do this I decided to sell my bullock team and horses, as I did not know how long I should remain. In the meantime, another diggings, called Purdie's Camp, broke out 40 miles up the river, so I purchased some more stores, and engaged a horse team to carry all the goods there at £40 per ton. The only grass on this route was that known as " turpentine grass." This the horses would not eat, consequently we had to feed them on flour, mixed and well-watered. On arrival, I disposed of every­ thing at high prices. Thus—flour, 2001b. bag for £20, and other things at like values. I was one day in a store kept by a man named T. Q. Jones, locally known as " Three-two." A man came in to buy a needle. He demurred at the price asked, one shilling, when the store-keeper remarked : " Good God, man, look at the price of carriage." I now had only my gold-bag, which was fairly bulky, and my blackboy, and having met an old acquaintance named Fitzmaurice, from Peak Downs, who had also sold his loading and had sent his teams down to Cooktown, we decided to walk the 40 miles back to the lower Palmer, carrying the gold in our blankets, which we slung over our shoulder. New Zealand style. When we reached the township which was then un-named, we heard that the cost of carriage from Cooktown had risen to £130 per ton for 165 miles. I learnt that there were teams camped at the Mitchell River, and having borrowed a horse from a friendly teamster, rode out to try and deal for one or more teams. I succeeded in buying 24 buUocks and two old drays, with three horses, for £400, agreeing also to take the carrier and his wife down to Cooktown, and paid a deposit. The owner had not heard of the high prices ruling for loading. When we reached the township, and he learnt this, he offered me £50 on my bargain to repurchase the teams, but I refused the offer. I then bought a new waggon for £60, and sold the two old drays to the blacksmith for £20. This enabled me to have a very strong team. I found out afterwards that this was necessary, as the roads were very heavy, notably 14 miles of sand, known as the " Welcome Water-hole Sand," in which the wheels buried themselves to the axle. Before I reached Cooktown, a man rode out from that town, and engaged me to take four tons of goods to what is now called " Palmerville," at £120 per ton. This price enabled me to engage a Chinaman cook, so that I could devote all my attention to looking after the bullocks. Cooktown, at that time (1873). 89

-was composed entirely of tents. Billy Wilson, my partner, arrived with our joint loading at " Palmerville," just as I arrived with my newly-bought teams, and not liking the idea of remaining as a storekeeper, I preferred to accompany him on his return to Cooktown. We decided to sell pur joint load at a price which netted us £70 per ton for carriage. After delivering my £120 load, I made all haste on my return, and succeeded in obtaining another load at £100 per ton. By this time, diggers who had been more or less successful were arriving in Cooktown on their way to the "Bay" (TownsviUe), or farther South. I think that the Palmer was the last real alluvial gold rush in Australia, and the class of men who followed such rushes in the search for gold is now extinct. Imagine to one's seU the " lucky digger " in cord pants, top boots, red shirt, and sash with fringes hanging down, the whole topped by a wide rimmed felt hat, and one has a man who may be seen in present-day picture shows. No doubt there were some doubtful characters among the diggers, but they were a grand stamp of men, slow to form friendship, but this once made was loyally given and maintained when fortune smiled, and more so when she frowned on one or other. The digger of the past was not often known to desert or turn down the man or woman to whom he gave his friendship.. Some were highly connected in other countries ; some had been " Varsity" men. I once assisted to bury the remains of one whose real name could never be learnt. From the clothes found in his camp, it could be seen that they originally had been marked, but the name had been cut out from each article. I found two volumes from which the names had also been cut out. These were "Sheridan's Works," and "Cicero's Works" in Latin. Many passages in the books were well marked with pencil, and both showed signs of being well studied. Carriage was invariably paid in gold at the standard of £3/15/- per oz. On sending the gold to the Sydney Mint through the banks, it netted us, after expenses, such as bank and shipping ch'arges, insurance, etc., were paid, at the rate of £4 per ounce. Palmer gold was valued at the Mint in Sydney at £4/7/0 per oz., which, at the time, was •considered as the top price for the market. When at Purdie Camp, a " packer,"—that is, a carrier using pack horses instead of teams—came in with his horses, one of which had thrown his shoe. This rendered the horse useless to travel over the stony ridges. The packer wanted nails to replace the shoe, so, as a joke, a carrier named Billy Yates, offered to let him have five horse-shoe nails for 90 their weight in gold. The offer was accepted, and I witnessed the nails put in one scale, and the gold to balance in the other. The packer was receiving one- shilling per pound for packing goods eleven miles, and. that day the horse took ISOlbs., thus netting him £7/10/- out of the price for the nails. I forget the value of the gold paid for the nails. On returning to Cooktown in 1874, I offered to make an agreement with a Chinese storekeeper to carry for him for twelve months at the rate of £50 per ton. After consulting Joss, he agreed, so I had constant employment at a lucrative price. The Chinese storekeepers generaUy packed their goods by their own countrymen, who carried them in baskets hung on bamboo sticks slung across their shoulders. The Chinese packers, through fear of the blacks, invariably travelled in numbers and in single file^ As a further protection, they kept up a loud conversation amongst the procession from one end to the other, and this conversation, if not understood, could be heard some time before the Chinese were met. On their return from the diggings, these packers were believed to carry back gold in payment for goods. In a similar way, it was thought that gold was largely transferred to China. The value of gold known to have been obtained from the Palmer is estimated at about £6,000,000 sterling.. If there was such a secret export by Chinese, the value- would be much more. Owing to the depredations and murders committed by the blacks, it was found advisable for teams and packers- to travel in numbers to assist protection. On this trip to Palmerville, I travelled in company with nine other teams. After crossing the Normanby River, we camped on the bank. Our buUocks strayed some miles do^n the river, and on mustering them in the morning, v e found the trend of the river was towards the Deighton River. A party was organised, of which I was one, to see if it was possible to reach the Deighton without going through the heavy " Welome Water-hole Sand." This was found practicable on good firm country, so on returning we rode single file to make a pad for the buUock.s to follow. Our first night out we camped between two lagoons, and a mate and I went out to get some ducks or geese which swarmed on the lagoons. We had previously noticed that the blacks' tracks had formed beaten pads like sheep's tracks round the lagoons. We had to cross a wet, patch running through sand, and as there were dense patches of scrub abundant near the lagoons, I had an impression it was not safe to go farther- 91 on foot, and said I would go back. My mate at first demurred, but eventually yielded. When we came back to the wet sand, we saw blacks' tracks over our boot prints. It was evident we had been followed, and had we not returned, probably we should have been speared when we were in a convenient place. That night dogs were barking incessantly. My waggon being on the outside, I let the tarpaulin down and slept on the ground instead of on the bunk rigged up between the spokes of the hind wheels—there was less likelihood of a spear catching me there. We met some empty teams coming down, and told them of the new road we had opened up. These carriers later informed us that the blacks had covered the road with bushes and sticks to screen their hunting grounds. The carriers also said they had met a German, his wife and Uttle girl, at the turn off, and advised them not to go on, as they had no fire arms. However, the German, whose name was " Hans Strau," persisted, saying he was not afraid of blacks, as he had been used to them. On arriving at the Palmer we met two carriers riding down with their gold. We told them of the new road, and they decided to travel that way. They later reported to the poUce that on reaching the open space around the lagoons they saw a large number of natives, and thinking mischief had been done, they discharged their revolvers among the blacks, who decamped. When the carriers reached the abandoned spot they found the body of the man beneath the dray. The dead body of the woman was a little distance away ; a spear had been driven through her mouth, and pinned her to the ground. Both bodies were warm. Three horses were lying dead, but there was no sign of the little girl. The carriers immediately galloped on to the 15-mile bend of the Normanby River, where a number of teams and packers were camped. In the morning, a well-armed search party was formed. On arrival, scouts were posted to warn if the blacks returned. A grave was dug, and the bodies lowered into it. While this was being carried out, sounds were heard in the scrub. The party proceeded in the direction, and found the little girl, a large gash across the forehead, her stomach ripped up by the blacks' wood knives, and her eyes picked out by crows. The body was brought in, and buried with the father and mother. Flour, sugar, tea, gunpowder, etc., were heaped lip on the ground, but there was no sign of the dray. Inspector Douglas, in charge of the native police, was informed. His detachment foUowed the murderers across the Normanby River, where they overtook and dispersed them. Portions of the 92 •dray, stripped of all the iron-work, were also found. The police learnt through the troopers from the blacks tihat the man was speared when reading a book under the dray. He was camped for the mid-day meal, and the woman was sewing when the blacks attacked .them. Before being killed outright, the woman was subjected to horrible outrage by the blacks. The blacks intended -to keep the little girl, but two old gins quarrelled over the possession, and it was decided to kill the child, and so avoid dissension among the tribe. From this murder the lagoon was known as the Murdering Lagoon. On my way back to Cooktown I camped near the grave. That night I lay down in the centre of the bullocks when.they camped after feeding, holding my loaded rifle, and my horse by the bridle. Bullocks are very sensitive to the smell of wild blacks, and wiU almost certainly stampede should any be about. Camping among bullocks is considered the safest place one can find. At this camp later I was mustering my bullocks on to the plain between the scrubs when they stampeded. I looked, but I could -see nothing, though I knew that blacks must be the cause. On returning to the drays, I was informed that three troopers, who had run away from Cape York, had been to the camp. They had fought their way through the wild tribes, and my bullock beUs were the first sign of •ci/ilisation they had met for three months. Shortly after making my first trip from Cooktown, I met Dr. Quinn, the then Roman Catholic Bishop of Brisbane, who was visiting the Palmer, and, who, with much glee, informed me he had just come safely through " The Gates of Hell." This locality was on the original track from Cooktown, opened up by Inspector Douglas, to avoid the many crossings of the Palmer during the wet seasons, but was abandoned owing to the hostility cf the blacks. In 1875, I loaded my teams for a new diggings, which had been broken out about 40 miles S.W. of Cooktown. The township had been called Byerstown, after Johnny Byers, who had established a business there. Mr. Byers, many years after, was appointed Government Land Agent at Hughenden, and subsequently Land •^Commissioner there. He is now Stock and Station Agent, doing a good business at the same town. Finding carrying a lucrative business, I purchased another waggon, and by breaking in more steers, established my third team; These I now loaded for Edwardstown. This was the popular name for the main township, about 40 miles up the Palmer River from Palmerville. It was offieiaUy known as .Maytown. In reaching it, we had some very rough. 93 mountainous country to negotiate by a new road opened from the Laura, over what was called the conglomerate, and not nearlj'^ as good as the one I'm Palmerville, but much shorter. On returning to Cooktown, I loaded my three teams for Sam Burns, who kept a store on what was known as the " Black Soil." The wet season set in much earlier this year, and caught us in the flooded country beyond the Normanby River, but by double banking the teams, and working in the rain, we reached an ant-hill flat which was so boggy that it was impossible to cross it without making a sound road. We had passed two teams camped, and as I was within 15 miles of my destination, I determined to push on. We then cut down saplings, and made a corduroy, across which we sledged the 12 tons of loading. This was rather risky, as we had a quantity of dynamite on, the explosive caps of which were inserted in oOlbs. bags of flour. During our work, which took three days to complete, the other teamsters would frequently ride past and say, " That's right, boys, make a good road for us ! " but did not offer to help. This riled me and my men. Sub-Inspector O'Connor, who was in charge of the Native Police at the Laura, knowing we were close, rode over with his troopers to give us a hand. When we had got the last of the waggons through, and put the loads on again, it was quite dark. After supper, I said it would serve the other fellows right if we took up the saplings and burnt them. The idea caught on with the men, and by the aid of the troopers, we took up every stick and made a huge bonfire of them. Being saturated with water, it was difficult setting them aUght, and the rain continued the whole time. However, by about midnight, we completed ou job, tired out, wet through, and no dry blankets to sleep in. Next morning, we were yoking to move on, when the owner of the other teams came up and threatened us with revenge for burning the timber. When he saw Mr. O'Connor and his troopers, he calmed down, and returned to his teams, lamenting he had not assisted us. He now had to do as we had, with all the saplings which had been in close proximity, cut down. The next day we reached our destination, and formed a good camp on the black soil to enjoy our Christmas dinner and a well-earned rest. I now began to feel a tinge of rheumatism in my arms through wearing wet clothing continuously. About the New Year one of my saddle horses came into the camp with a portion of a spear stuck in his rump. We threw him, and cut out the barbed head, but it always remained a running sore. I caught the horse we always had hobbled,. 94 and started to look for the others, and in foUowing the track, I found where the blacks had rounded them up, killing two, one my favourite hack, and had taken away the meat for consumption. After mustering the others, I reported the matter to O'Connor, who had just received information of the murder of two packers, and was preparing for a long trek after the murderers, which were apparently the same tribe as kiUed my horses. Six troopers, O'Connor and myself, aU fuUy armed, started. I took them to where the blacks had kiUed the two horses, the boys foUowing the track by instinct, as I thought, the rain having obUterated aU signs to me. When crossing a high ridge, so bare and hard that our horses left no imprint, two of the trackers were riding ahead, the others •driving the pack horses behind. I said to O'Connor, " I don't beUeve they are on the tracks ! " " WeU ! " he said—" I can't see any, I wiU caU them back." He caUed out " Sambo," which was the name of the corporal, " Where track ? " He pointed to a blade of spinifex. I asked " Where 1 " He answered, " There." So I got off my horse, and there was a tiny speck of blood which had dropped on the root, and had not been washed off by the rain. It turned out the Myalls had been carrying the flesh of my horses, and the blood had dropped here and there. We afterwards came to where they had had a great feast on the bank of the Kennedy River. Here it was rather wide, with a sandy bed, the water running over it about three feet deep. I found the shoes and tail and mane of my favourite horse ; also some clothing, supposed to have belonged to the packers, murdered a short time before. We held a consultation, and it was decided to send two of the boys with the pack horses back from the river and down it. The country was very broken. The rest of us decided to foUow the river down towards . We had a boy out on each side to see if the Myalls had left the river bed. They were cute enough to know we could not track them in this. We followed the river down for two days I shall never forget the torture of waUcing bare-footed on coarse sand with water running over it. I tried it with my boots on, but the sand floating in the water came into my boots, and made my feet quite sore. O'Connor was in the same plight as myself. On the afternoon of the third day, the boys saw a column of smoke about a mUe ahead. We immediately left the river, and erected our tents for a camp, short hobbling the horses with no beUs on, but could not boil the billy, as smoke from the fire would be seen. The moon rose about midnight, and as the rain 95 bad ceased, we decided to start about 2 a.m:, leaving our horses and belongings there. It was a weird procession, as we wended our way along the river. Five naked blacks in single file in the lead, their only dress consisting of a cartridge belt round the waist, and cap in hand. The latter they were most particular in wearing on head when going into action, otherwise they would have difficulty in recognising each other. O'Connor, myself, and the corporal brought up the rear. After travelling some •distance through grass, which in places was over our heads, we heard a chuclle on an island in the bed of the river. After consultation, it was decided to send the five boys round to the other side, whilst we remained waiting. Near daylight we heard shots about a mile down the river. O'Connor, the boy, and I ran in the direction of the shots^ We had not gone far when a big blackfeUow sprang up from the river, and diving between me and the trooper into the long grass, disappeared before I could bring my rifle to the shoulder. I then heard a shot behind me. We afterwards found the Myall dead with a shot through the knee. We eventually reached the place where the blacks had camped, but the boys had previously •dispersed most of them. If at any time I felt a compunction in using my rifle, I lost it when I thought of the murders of Strau, his wife and daughter, and the outrages committed upon them, and again of the murder and eating of the two packers so recently. We burnt all the blacks' weapons and several dilly-bags containing the dead bodies of infants which they carried about with them. The stench of burning human flesh was sickening. I accompanied one of the troopers down the river, where the soil at the roots of a large gum-tree had been hollowed out by the water. Beneath, it resembled a huge cave. Suddenly the trooper fired two shots into the cave. I said : " What are you firing at ? " He replied : " Two fella sit down there." After which he hauled out the bodies of two black fellows, he had shot dead. On our way back, we met the troopers from the Palmer, who were also out for the same tribe. They went on down the river. We got back to the Laura Camp tired out from our exertion. The boys told us the reason they did not stop at the island was because it contained only a mob of old gins, who had knocked up the previous evening, and could not make the camp. On starting on my return to Cooktown, O'Connor prevailed upon me to wait at the Police Camp whilst he and the troopers patrolled the road past the Murdering Lagoon. On his return, he told me .the blacks had been there during the wet season, and had 96 dug up Jack Strau s grave, and had carried off the bones.- When I arrived at the spot with the teams, I saw the stains made by the chest of tea the blacks had pillaged off the dray on the day of the murder. In 1878, the diggings on the Palmer were failing for some reason, which seems to me to be still uncertain, and the price of carriage having fallen so low as to become unremunerative, I was induced by a former mate to consider a proposition to start business in the western country, which was then being opened up. So I came to leave the north and its associations, and to enter what was to me practically a new life. I think, therefore, this is an appropriate point at which to terminate my paper, which I trust may be as interesting to those who have patiently listened to it,, as it has been to me to narrate some of my own- experiences.