hey had gone by, and while Carruthers was
having a drink, a man jumped on the horse and galloped away. Carruthers
walked on to the sheep, got a fresh horse, and with our black boy
followed the thief until they came to the spot where, in a piece of
scrub, he had pulled the mane and tail of the horse to alter its
appearance. Darkness coming on, they had to abandon further pursuit. The
horse was a very fine chestnut. A new saddle and bridle, a pouch
containing cheque book and revolver, were taken with him, so the robber
had a good haul. There were no telegraph stations out back in those
days.

When passing Apis Creek, near the Mackenzie River, I met a man named
Christie, whom I afterwards learnt was Gardiner, the ex-bushranger. We
passed through Taroom, Springsure, on to Peak Downs station, where we
essayed a short cut on to the Cotherstone road, but when we had got
half-way, the owner made us turn back. I had a very rough time driving
the leading dray through the loose, black soil, and was glad to get back
on the road, which was well beaten by the teams carrying copper from
Clermont to Broadsound.

We eventually reached Lord's Table Mountain, where we had permission to
remain, whilst I took the drays into Clermont to be repaired, and to
obtain an additional supply of rations. Whilst staying at Winter's
Hotel, I met Griffin, the warden--afterwards hanged for shooting the
troopers guarding the gold escort, of which he was in charge.

I also met Fitzmaurice, destined in after years to become my partner in
the far west. He had brought in drays from Surbiton station to be
repaired.

Carruthers then rented some country from Rolfe, on Mistake Creek, on
which to shear the sheep. I shore 800. My salary was now L80 per year,
for which I acted as overseer, bookkeeper, and giving a hand as general
utility at all kinds of work. After shearing, the sheep were taken down
to Chambers' Camp, on the same creek, whilst I took the wool to Port
Mackay. When crossing the Expedition Range, before reaching Clermont, on
my way from Mistake Creek, I rode over to a small diggings to purchase
meat. The only butcher was a man named Jackson, whose wife served me.
She was a fine, comely woman, whom I afterwards met on the Lower Palmer,
where her husband was keeping a store. He was burnt to death on
Limestone Creek on that river. Eventually, she married Thos. Lynett, a
packer from Cooktown to Edward's Town (as Maytown was popularly known),
and who,