The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1880-10-07
SAVED BY THE DOCTOR.
An Australian Adyeh ture

lne ep1SOue am going 10 relate OC-
CURED not far from the township of
Horsman, Victoria, Australia. Where
the exact locality is, 1 have no inten-
ton of divulging; but if any of my
readers are acquainted with a part of
the world refer to; they will remem-
Der that there exists one or two large
streams within the wide radius I have
named. Beside one of these rivers
there was standing, about twenty years
ago, a hut, which was known at the
homestead as the Deep Water Station;
and it was here that my lot placed me
as hut-keeper. I lived at the Deep
Water Station for two years.
If readers of the following story wish
to know who I am, will crafty
their curiosity SO far as to state that [
was born in the north of England. My
father was retired tradesman. He
gave me fair education, but 1 never
fulfilled the expectations formed of me.
This night, while I write, I can show
nothing to prove that ever succeeded
in the world. / am a poor clerk,
struggling for a bare existence, and
sometimes struggling with wild, strong
impulse to wander and work through
the country, as often did before, near
the scenes of my former experience.
like the red sunset and the wild plains
as much as ever; like the glow of the
sunlight among the gnarled, queer trees;
l like the ripping rays on the water
the waving, shadowy grass of the silent
hills the brigh', still moon-the Wild
elness away from towns; I like Aus
tralian life, but not among the dusty
streets, or near the white sweltering
roads. For twenty years I followed
these impulses faithfully, and enjoyed
my bush-life; with little profit, it is
true, but with much pleasure. All [
have to show for all my wanderings
and hardships, as I write, is long ugly
scar across my breast, and I am going
to tell you how got it.
| remember 1 was sitting at the hut
(the Deep Water Hut) one afternoon,
looking for the coming of "Long Matt"
The sun was passing away b!ood-red
behind a range of dim blue hills; long
shadows were fast approaching; the
deep water hole had lost the light; the
hills behind the river just tipped with a
crimson glory, and the stars seemed
dropping like silver specks on the pal
ing sky. Long Matt, the shepherd, was
latter than usual.
The darkness had not quite fallen be-
fore recognized the bleating of the
flock in the distance, and soon after
the white t1eeces Of the sheep slowly
appeared from out the sombre shad-
ows Of the trees. had just walked in
side the hut to prepare supper when
the quick muff1ed fall of horses feet
became audible. I knew the canter
well, and came to the door to await
the arrival of M. s., the owner of
the station. He galloped up to the
hut with cheerful "Good evening,
Bill" and as usual came inside to ask
me if l wanted anything, and to light
his pipe.
IT can't stay long with, you this time,
Bill," he said pleasantly, but with 4
little anxiety; ''the black fellows are
about again. I hope your gun is in
order: Do you want any powder or
load?'
eve have quiet enough" replied,
s'both Matt and myself; but there's no
bullets; I'll run them tomorrow.
MATHS quite late this evening; but the
flock is not far off; they'll be home in
aquarter of an hour; saw them pass
the belt before you came"
At this instant the shadow of a man
darkened the doo4, and Matt entered.
"Good evening"" he said quietly to
Mr.. S-and myself. ''The sleeps
feedin' home all right, sir, but there's q
few missin.' One of my marked ewes
is gone and I can't see the crawlers, i"
'You'n pick them up tomorrow,
Matt" replied the strong, pleasant
voice of the squatter. "Bill says you've
enough powder and lead. The blacks
are about, do you know that?"
Without waiting for an answer, Mr..