Excellent Food As Dried Fruit Is, Yet It Is Apt
To Become Monotonous When It Must Do Duty For Breakfast, Dinner, And Tea!
Such Was Our Scanty Fare; Nevertheless We Managed To Keen Up The
Appearance Of Being Quite Festive And Happy.
Having spread the table - that is, swept the floor clear of ants and other
homely insects - and laid out
The feast, I rose to my knees and proposed
the health of my old friend and comrade Mr. Davies, wished him the
compliments of the season, and expressed a hope that we should never spend
a worse Christmas. The toast was received with cheers and honoured in weak
tea, brewed from the re-dried leaves of our last night's meal. He suitably
replied, and cordially endorsed my last sentiment. After duly honouring
the toasts of "The Ladies," "Absent Friends," and others befitting the
occasion, we fell to on the frugal feast.
For the benefit of thrifty housewives, as well as those whom poverty has
stricken, I respectfully recommend the following recipe. For dried apples:
Take a handful, chew slightly, swallow, fill up with warm water and wait.
Before long a feeling both grateful and comforting, as having dined not
wisely but too heavily, will steal over you. Repeat the dose for luncheon
and tea.
One or two other men were camped near us, and I have no doubt would have
willingly added to our slender store had they known to what short commons
we were reduced. Our discomforts were soon over, however, for Lord Douglas
hearing that I was in a starving condition, hastened from the "Cross," not
heeding the terrible accounts of the track, bringing with him a supply of
the staple food of the country, "Tinned Dog" - as canned provisions are
designated.
Wandering on from our little rock of refuge, we landed at the Twenty-five
Mile, where lately a rich reef had been found. We pegged out a claim on
which we worked, camped under the shade of a "Kurrajong" tree, close above
a large granite rock on which we depended for our water; and here we spent
several months busy on our reef, during which time Lord Douglas went home
to England, with financial schemes in his head, leaving Mr. Davies and
myself to hold the property and work as well as we could manage and I
fancy that for a couple of amateurs we did a considerable amount of
development.
Here we lived almost alone, with the exception of another small party
working the adjoining mine, occasionally visited by a prospector with
horses to water. Though glad of their company, it was not with unmixed
feelings that we viewed their arrival, for it took us all our time to get
sufficient water for ourselves. I well remember one occasion on which,
after a slight shower of rain, we, having no tank, scooped up the water we
could from the shallow holes, even using a sponge, such was our eagerness
not to waste a single drop; the water thus collected was emptied into a
large rock-hole, which we covered with flat stones. We then went to our
daily work on the reef, congratulating ourselves on the nice little
"plant" of water. Imagine our disgust, on returning in the evening, at
finding a mob of thirsty packhorses being watered from our precious
supply! There was nothing to be done but to pretend we liked it. The
water being on the rock was of course free to all.
How I used to envy those horsemen, and longed for the time when I could
afford horses or camels of my own, to go away back into the bush and just
see what was there. Many a day I spent poring over the map of the Colony,
longing and longing to push out into the vast blank spaces of the unknown.
Even at that time I planned out the expedition which at last I was enabled
to undertake, though all was very visionary, and I could hardly conceive
how I should ever manage to find the necessary ways and means.
Nearly every week I would ride into Coolgardie for stores, and walk out
again leading the loaded packhorse, our faithful little chestnut "brumby,"
i.e., half-wild pony, of which there are large herds running in the bush
near the settled parts of the coast. A splendid little fellow this, a true
type of his breed, fit for any amount of work and hardship. As often as
not he would do his journey into Coolgardie (twenty-five miles), be tied
up all night without a feed or drink - or as long as I had to spend there
on business - and return again loaded next morning. Chaff and oats were
then almost unprocurable, and however kind-hearted he might be, a poor
man could hardly afford a shilling a gallon to water his horse. On these
occasions I made my quarters at Bayley's mine, where a good solid meal and
the pleasant company of Messrs. Browne and Lyon always awaited me. Several
times in their generosity these good fellows spared a gallon or two of
precious water for the old pony.
They have a funny custom in the West of naming horses after their
owners - thus the chestnut is known to this day as "Little Carnegie."
Sometimes they are named after the men from whom they are bought. This
practice, when coach-horses are concerned, has its laughable side, and
passengers unacquainted with the custom may be astonished to hear all
sorts of oaths and curses, or words of entreaty and encouragement,
addressed to some well-known name - and they might be excused for thinking
the driver's mind was a little unhinged, or that in his troubles and
vexations he was calling on some prominent citizen, in the same way that
knights of old invoked their saints.
Thus, our peaceful life at the "Twenty-five" passed on, relieved sometimes
by the arrival of horsemen and others in search of water.
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