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Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Wed Oct 31, 2012 10:40 pm

'The Drover' - Page 107:

tomorrow’s problem, first to get the cattle up the steep range and settled them for the night on the plateau.
Greg and Hector bought up the rear, Hector filled his saddle with his small size and looked as if he’d ridden his horse most of his life. He was born to be a drover with the blood-line he contained. His huge akubra hat covered most of his head flattening both ears with only the rim pushed high enough for him see where he was going.
Everything was going to plan. Harry kept to the centre of the mob to see far enough ahead to follow Les up the steep incline.
After a time the sun was moving to its zenith which indicated it was time to stop for a break.
With Les in sight, Harry galloped around the mob and soon came abreast, ‘we’ll give them a rest for awhile and have a bite to eat, what’d you reckon?’
‘Okay, there’s a small valley up ahead, I’ll stop them there.’ Les replied and headed the herd toward the valley. With the pull of a rein on his horse he rang the cattle to settle them down on camp for lunch.
Whilst Greg unsaddled the packhorse, Hector unsaddled his horse and Greg’s and placed dinner-camp hobbles on them to graze.
In the small valley was grass but sparse.
Greg had the billy boiling by the time Harry and Les rode into camp. Rose provided Greg with corned beef sandwiches enough for everyone for lunch.
‘Claire and the others are holding the cattle while we have lunch and a rest,’ he told the others, ‘we’ll move them on in a couple of hours. By the time we reach the plateau – I want to be there by late afternoon. They won’t be able to have a drink until tomorrow so the sooner we camp them down for the night the easier it will be.’
Droving is lonely at times and without Rose, Harry felt he wanted to speak to his best mate to be reassured he was doing the right thing. So far everything had gone to plan but

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Postby patritter » Thu Nov 01, 2012 11:12 pm

'The Drover' - Page 108:

tomorrow would be the jewel in the crown of success and hopefully everything would work.
After an hour’s break Les saddled his horse and rode out to relieve Claire and the others so they could return to the camp for lunch.
‘How’s everything going?’ Harry asked his daughter when she rode into camp.
‘It’s better than doing school work Dad – I love riding Dusty and droving,’ she informed her father, ‘it’s the best job in the whole wide world.’ Claire’s face flashed with pride.
Harry was proud of his daughter and the other children who helped. They didn’t worry about aboriginal ancestors in the range. It could have been an old wives tale as far as they were concerned, but one thing was for certain, he could depend on his daughter and the others.
By late afternoon Les reached the plateau on top of the range. One by one the cattle followed and settled on the sweet grasses spread across the top. When the last of the cattle settled, Greg set up camp and boiled the billy.
From the top of the plateau Harry and Les stood looking west. In the distance flowed the Wilson River winding its way down from the north.
‘Tomorrow we’ll be down there Les.’ Harry pointed in the direction of the river. He saw a reflection of glass flicking from the bank of the river and looked closer to see it was Rose with the truck. He felt relaxed knowing she’d arrived.
‘The track down is a little dangerous. When I rode the trail yesterday - the edge is safe, but if the cattle don’t keep moving, the fall is straight over the edge. How do you want to do it?’ Harry asked Les.
‘Same as today – I’ll take the lead. I’ll take it slow and easy. Hopefully they don’t rush because that’s when we can have trouble. I’m sure after today – we’ll make it.’ Les admitted to Harry.

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Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Nov 03, 2012 12:07 am

'The Drover' - Page 109:

Each took turns with the Nighthorse – soothing the resting cattle with their low country style singing.
Before the sun had time to rise above the broken sky all hands were on deck. Each had had their breakfast of a mug of tea and Johnny cakes.
Les took the lead and started the steep decent down the range.
It was dangerous at first because Les needed to be certain the cattle walked slow – one behind the other – and important not rush. If anything disturbed them there would be a catastrophe and there is nothing worse for a drover when cattle rush and in this case force one another over the edge to their death.
‘Easy does it,’ Les muttered when he let his horse guide himself down the side of the mountain. The ledge was wide enough for six cattle to walk along. A distance of about a quarter of a mile and they would be home and hose.
Whilst Les walked his horse at a steady pace the cattle followed in single file; the others kept a distance in the rear. Cattle are like sheep, if you have a leader than the others follow.
Harry and the others were at the rear end of the mob, he saw Les walking his horse making his way down the steep incline; a lump formed in his throat, if I didn’t have Les, I wouldn’t have taken the chance with going this way, the thought past through his mind.
With steady going Les finally reached the base of the range. It was open plain and he let the cattle walk at their own leisure waiting for the remainder to follow. Les felt a smile spring across his face, took a deep breath, he said to himself, ‘we made it – Harry was right - we did it.’ He felt like punching the air he felt great about the achievement.
By the time the remainder of the cattle stretched out across the plain, Harry galloped around to Les and said, ‘good on ya mate – I knew you could do it.’

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Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Nov 03, 2012 10:33 pm

'The Drover' - Page 110:

‘We were lucky. You haven’t got any other bright ideas like this one, have you?’ He replied to Harry.
‘Not at this time. This was the toughest part and thank goodness you were with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.’
It was time for a rest to allow the cattle to graze and eat. They had another five miles to go before they reached the Wilson River.
‘Greg, could you ride onto the river; take five horses. Tell those other fellows everything is okay to help us take the mob to the river and tell them to bring back the dogs.’ Harry said.
Greg acknowledged the message from his uncle. He cut out five horses from the mob and with the packhorse drove them the five miles to the river where his aunt Rose had made camp. She was delighted to see him to know all the children was safe.
After the ringers saddled their horses they returned to where the cattle rested.
‘I want you lot to take fifty at a time to water’, Harry instructed his ringers, ‘cut out fifty and drove them to the water steady. After they’ve drank enough water let them graze on the plain and come back for another fifty. We’ll take the final fifty when we return to the camp.’
‘Okay Boss’, the spokesman replied and galloped off to fulfil his task.
Late that afternoon Harry and the others drove the final fifty head to the water. After the cattle drank sufficient water they joined their mates to camp down for the night.
Rose was pleased to see Harry but more pleased to see Claire and the other children, ‘how did you go with your Dad?’ She asked Claire when she rode into the camp.
‘It was wonderful – this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.’ Claire shouted with joy in her voice.

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Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Nov 04, 2012 10:02 pm

'The Drover' - Page 111:

‘Let your horse go and have some dinner, I’ve cooked a roast dinner with pudden. I thought you’d be hungry after two days on the road.’
Claire unsaddled Dusty and let him go with the others. She returned to the camp and after eating her fill retired to bed. She was blissfully tired. Before going to bed she hand washed her body with a soapy sponge to clean the red dirt from her skin. It was too late for a bath in the river.

Days went into weeks and they followed the Wilson River to head toward the miniature town of Noccundra, the nearest pub for more than one hundred and twenty miles.
‘What about letting the boys and I go into the pub for a quiet beer?’ Les asked Harry when they camped down the cattle.
‘I don’t know Les. You know the rules, I don’t like drink in the camp.’ Harry remarked. It was like a red rag to a bull with liquor in the camp. Men get drunk and the next thing is they leave and there’s no one to finish the drive.
‘Yeah, well I thought one drink wouldn’t be too bad.’ Les said.
‘Sorry mate – you know as well as I do what’d happen if I allowed the men to have one drink. You know yourself, it wouldn’t only be one and the taste never leaves. We’ve got a lot of miles to go and we’ve only started.’ Harry confirmed to Les almost pleading for justice to keep away from the grog.
‘Okay – you’re right. I couldn’t stop at one and I know these other fellows wouldn’t stop.’ Les admonished.
Harry was pleased Les decided not to visit the hotel. Although it was the only hotel for miles, it was built in 1882 and still going strong.
Before daybreak the next morning the cattle were ready to move off camp. It was time to leave the winding Wilson River and head west toward Durham Downs cattle station.

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Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Nov 05, 2012 10:11 pm

'The Drover' - Page 112:

Apart from Bulloo Downs, Durham Downs was the next largest property in the south west corner of Queensland.
‘I’ll be gone most of the day.’ Harry told Rose, ‘I’ll ride over to Durham Downs homestead and tell the owner I’m moving cattle through his property. After we’ve got through this place, it’ll take a couple of days; we’ll head for the Thompson River.’
As the sun set on the horizon Harry returned to camp. Les and the others had moved the cattle ten mile toward Durham Downs property and camped on the boundary fence. They used the corner of the boundary fence as a brake. Tonight would be easier to hold the cattle together.
‘Everything’s right to go through Durham, I spoke with the manager and he didn’t think it necessary to send one of his workers. I think he trusts me.’ He told Rose and Les.
‘We’re getting short on meat, Harry – you might have to kill.’ Rose told Harry.
‘Okay Les, let’s cut one out and butcher it.’ Harry commanded.
Les took the .22 calibre rifle whilst Harry rode in amongst the mob to select a killer. The cattle had retained their weight and didn’t look too bad, Harry thought. He selected a smaller size beast, ‘here Les, this one over here.’ Harry pointed to the beast he wanted Les to kill.
Les walked up to the beast; pointed the barrel of the rifle to the forehead of the beast and pulled the trigger. A slight muffled sound was heard but not enough to frighten the cattle. The beast instantly fell to the ground. Les put the rifle aside; drew a butcher knife from its holder. With precision he stuck the knife into the lower throat of the animal and plunged the blade into the heart of the animal. Blood oozed from the wound of the beast.
After the beast bled out, Harry threw a rope to Les who fastened it around the hind leg of the beast. Harry dragged the beast closer to the camp from the top of his horse. It was now dark and a bright moon shone to brighten the night.

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Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Tue Nov 06, 2012 11:11 pm

'The Drover' - Page 113:

Harry and Les went to work on skinning the animal, first laying it on one side and paring the skin away from the meat. After they finished one side, they rolled the beast over and began to do the same on the other side.
By the time most of the hide was separated from the beast they spread the hide to prevent any dirt from soiling the fresh meat. The beast was now positioned on its back with four legs pointing toward the sky. Harry opened the brisket with his knife and chopped through the hard chest bone with an axe. He opened the chest and sliced along the stomach to remove the heart, liver, kidneys and sweetbread. Sweetbread is a soft portion at the bottom of the stomach and when cooked tastes like chicken.
Cuts were made from the favourite portions of the animal, meat cut away from the rib cage; the bones of the rib cage chopped away with an axe to remove from the animal. The rib cage was taken in sections to Rose who instantly threw them onto the fire. At every killing there was no better dish to serve to the workers after a kill than having rib bones cooked on the coals.
The tender meat pealed away from each cooked rib bone and tasted like nothing else on earth. After the rib bones cooked on the coals of the fire; fat from the cooked rib bone dripped down the side of the mouth when chewing the meat away from the bone. It was the best feed ever.
When all of the cuts of meat were finished Rose salted them by rubbing course salt into the meat to save it from going rotten. There were no refrigeration facilities on the road. It was packed into hessian bags for storage. Salt was added to keep the meat from going rotten. After the meat was cut into various pieces; the hide was stretched to dry over night.
Early next day Harry used his pocket knife to slice the hide into one long piece of leather. He began to cut from the centre of the hide and continued in a circle. By the time he reached the end of the hide he had sufficient leather to either

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