A NEW CHUM’S START FOR THE BUSH.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume III, Issue 677, 1 July 1882, Page 2

A NEW CHUM’S START FOR THE BUSH.

[“ Blackwood’s magazine.”]

Presently the new arrival issued from the verandah, dressed, according to his ideas, as much like a bushman as pos. sible, in a thick coat and waistcoat, heavy enough for an English winter, and a pair of thick, baggy cord breeches, with long, heavy-soled Napoleon boots garnished with formidable long-necked spurs. A bran new cabbage-tree hat protected his head; his waist was confined by a broad leathern belt, supporting on one side a revolver, and on the other a large butcher’s knife. It was a matter of no little difficulty for him to mount his steed, partly from his cumbrous attire and the huge “ swag ” that lay across the seat, as well as from the unpleasant way in which the newly-pannelled saddle kept slipping over the fat round back of his mare whenever his weight bore on the stirrup. In time, by dint of one man holding to the opposite stirrup, another keeping back the swag, a third holding the bridle, and a fourth pushing him behind, Mr Boyle gained a romantic and picturesque perch, much to his own satisfaction, amidst shouts of “Stick to her, squatter!” from the deeply-inte-rested spectators, whose amusement was, however, soon to be.cjianged into consternation ; for when they had followed the cavalier a short distance to an open space, it entered into his head to see how his mare stood fire in case he might be placed in some of the perils which he fancied beset his journey. Accordingly, he drew his trusty and much valued ‘ double action ’ out of his bright new pouch. It had been loaded with much attention that morning, and aiming at a stump, he fired. He had no time to witness the effect of his shot. With a bound his charger flew round, and getting amongst the small crowd of onlookers, she put down her head, and executed in a circle a series of remarkably active buck-jumps. Her rider could not fall off. He sat there, trussed by the swag in front of him, desperation in his face, his long spurs jammed well into the side of his mare, his hand mechanically holding the pistol, and with each succeeding jump involuntarily pulling the trigger, causing the bullets to fly in every direction. There was no more laughing from the audience. With an impulse they threw themselves on the ground, preferring to chance being trampled on by the horse to being subjected to the erratic fire of the equestrian acrobat. On the chambers being all discharged, the mare ceased bucking, and no one was more astonished than the rider to find himself still in his saddle. And he departed, much to the relief of those who had thus stood or lain down to powder for the first time.