Page:The romance of Runnibede (IA romanceofrunnibe00rudd).pdf/15

reincarnation of dead stockmen? My gosh, imagine Bill Bent, who broke his neck on Hodgson’s Creek, with the thick legs and raucous voice he had, turning into a curlew! If poor old Bill ever turns into anything other than a fat, red worm, it'll be into a scrub bull.”’

Father — or as the station hands called him — "The Governor - "was an Englishman, with all his hopes of treasure in Australia, and his heart in England. A good style of man the Governor was — in build neither thick nor thin; a shaved chin and "mutton- chop" whiskers; ruddy complexion, cheerful, generous, and, in a quiet way, daring as the devil. He was schooled at Eton, and like most well educated men, his intellectual gifts were mediocre. Sometimes he talked about books and literature, sometimes of politics, but most often it was about prices of cattle or sport. An incurable optimist the Governor was, full of theory and ideas. But his ideas were mostly English — so was his seat in the saddle. The English in a saddle are "players to the gallery," and little better than gymnasium riders. Maybe one in a thousand could be called a horseman in the Australian bush. Like most of the pioneer squatters, the Governor plunged into Australian station life without any knowledge of the Australias bush, or of its moods and changes, and so he had a lot to learn — and he learnt it.

Whenever the mails reached Runnibede — the mailman only happened along at irregular intervals — the Governor would hurry away to his office and shut himself up with the newspapers — most of them English