207
When I reached the age of sixteen my brother and I had, by that time, become wonderfully expert in the bush. We enjoyed quite a reputation in the bay as “trackers.” Every new arrival got this advice given him, “You had better look out for those Hay boys. Treat them well and you will be all right. Should you treat them badly or unfairly you had better look out.” The reason for this caution was that we were frequently called upon to find cattle when they strayed, as they were prone to do before the land was cleared and fences erected. Our faculty for locality was developed almost to the extent of a sixth sense, for we could enter the bush at any point, and emerge at whatever part we desired to reach, even in foggy weather. When tracking cattle we followed the spoor quickly and easily in suitable ground. When the traces grew fainter and were eventually lost, one of us would stand still whilst the other cast about in a wide circle until the tracks were found anew, when we would again push on until the cattle were discovered. We could always make certain of success, even if the tracks were three or four days old, provided they had not been obliterated by rain. Settlers who treated us
