’Twas here on the range that the trouble began;
For a slip on the sidling, a loose rolling stone,
And the chase would be done; but the bay in the van
And the little grey mare were a sure-footed pair.
He looked once around as she crept to his heel,
And the swish that he gave his long tail in the air
Seemed to say, ‘Here’s a foeman well worthy my steel!’
They raced to within half-a-mile of the bluff
That drops to the river—the squadron strung out.
‘I wonder,’ quoth Mac, ‘has the bay had enough!’
But he wasn’t left very much longer in doubt,
For the Lord of the Hills struck a spur for the flat
And followed it, leaving his mob, mares and all,
While Empress (brave heart! she could climb like a cat)
Down the stony descent raced with never a fall.
Once down on the level ’twas galloping ground:
For a while Charlie thought he might yard the big bay
At his uncle’s out-station; but no! he wheeled round
And down the sharp dip to the Gulf made his way.
Betwixt the twin portals that, towering high
And backwardly sloping in watchfulness, lift
Their smooth grassy summits towards the far sky,
The course of the clear Murrumbidgee runs swift.
No time then to seek where the crossing should be:
It was in at the one side and out where you could:
But fear never dwelt in the hearts of those three
