sweep, and they began on the children. One child was knocked down by a trooper, who dashed its brains out with a stone. Another little toddler was knocked over, and, as the trooper stood over it with a big stone intending to repeat the operation, his officer shouted to ask whether it was a boy or a girl. "Boy, mamae" (the name black troopers give their officer). "Save him, then," was the answer. The little fellow was saved. Some readers of these lines will remember the boy, and the scar on his forehead from the first knock-down blow.
On another occasion one gentleman went on the tracks of a police officer who had been sent to follow and punish the blacks for one of the many murders of whites that had been committed. He found two women with bullet holes in their heads, but no sign that the men had been caught or touched. The officer returned, reporting that he had followed and severely punished the guilty tribe.
A detachment of police went on patrol outside the diggers' encampment, and came across some blacks. These savages had done nothing; no outrage on whites had been committed at the time within a hundred miles of the place. This was in the daytime, and the blacks were an ordinary travelling party, including men, women, and children. There happened to be another white man with the troopers, and he was astonished to see then immediately open fire and charge the flying blacks. It was as usual a simple massacre, and with the ordinary accompaniments. The women and children were frantic with terror, and one poor little fellow, confused and not knowing what he was doing, was knocked down by a trooper's horse, and horribly trampled to death. Several men were shot, and one young girl captured—and treated as savages treat women who fall into their hands.
Again, a party of whites were with a detachment of police making their way over a new track across the ranges. The blacks in the neighborhood were innocent of any offence against the whites. But as they went along, three blacks showed themselves on a distant point of rock. They did nothing but simply look at the travellers. At the suggestion of the officer the troopers tried their hands at picking off the men, as they would try a long shot at a strange animal. Their rifles were good, and their aim true, and two of the unhappy savages paid the penalty of coming within rifle range of Christians by their death.—Queenslander, June 26, 1880.
VII.
This series of papers may appropriately end with instances of the manner in which the black troopers themselves—the instruments our Government use for the purpose already described—are treated. These men, whatever we may think of their deeds, deserve from the community some consideration. They are recruited, drilled, clad in our uniform, and sent out to do our work, which they perform faithfully. In punishing them for any misdeeds they commit, it is evident that there can be no necessity for extraordinary proceedings—nor need they be dealt with outside the law. There is neither any difficulty in identifying the offenders, in capturing them, nor in affording them he benefit of a legal trial. They all understand English, and many, if not most of them, quite comprehend what a trial means. We will now give a few recent incidents characterising the treatment they occasionally receive when in their turn they fall victims to our merciless and bloody system.
Discharged troopers may often be seen employed on stations, and it may be said that they are not usually the best of "station boys;" in fact, the complaint is commonly made that an old "police boy" will excite a spirit of mischief among the quiet station blacks, and that they are "schemers," and so forth. This is probable. The service, the Native Police, is not exactly a school of morals, nor is it likely to teach savages any other law than that of the strongest—the rule that a man may do exactly what he pleases to those who are too weak to resist him. Some troopers die in the service—very few indeed from wounds received in actual conflict, for they seldom meet with genuine resistance. The majority of police officers treat their "boys" well; some with great kindness. But there are exceptions. And there is an unwritten rule in the service according to which refractory troopers are disposed of. The practice is well known, although of course, like most of the work done by the Native Police, it is steadily ignored by the authorities. At one time it used to be known as having the trooper "passed out of the district"—the phrase being a euphuism for the fact that he had been privately taken to a secluded spot in the bush and shot. It has been spoken of as "giving him a run for it," alluding to a plan that has been adopted on some occasions of giving the wretch a chance for his life—a start, and the opportunity of dodging the bullets of the firing party. But it was more commonly covered by a report which described the trooper as having died of some disease. One officer has been known to give the disease in a particular case as
