O’Bourne.
O’Bourne was not often described as a horse thief, and never in his hearing. But if he was en route and his nag started complaining of fatigue or sore feet and he still had a bit to go he would look around for one left around with the key in the dash. He was never without an adequate length of rope and would soon be cantering gaily on with a new burst of power under him. Thus he would proceed stage by stage until he arrived at his destination. The return trip would be carried out in the same manner in the reverse order. There were often lots of blokes about the remoter parts of Australia searching for horses O’Bourne had misplaced.
There is a notable similarity between his operation and the present day illegal use of cars. But to catch a strange horse in an open paddock is a difficult job. Add in the likelihood that the owner may well be close by about one of the many tasks to be found on farms, will have his own ideas of a suitable fate for a thief, especially one thieving from him, and may be well able to bring it about. Then add in the mounting of an animal whose temperament, training, and history are unknown. It would require a skill and a gall a bit beyond that of the of the average hoodlum joy rider.
Bailey Millett
Bailey Millett was a cow thief but he didn’t specialise. He would thieve anything that was not red hot or firmly nailed down. He favoured cattle and horses.
When driving a stolen mob and approaching an area sometimes frequented by police, he would, with a handful of coins, commission a local yokel to drive them on to a point he had selected. He would then take over to deliver them well out of danger. Many an innocent lad, who may have been unaware of the true ownership of the stock, spent a night or two as guest of His Majesty for driving stolen animals.
When all the local boys had been ‘once bitten’ he trained two blue cattle dogs who asked no silver and did the job with greater efficiency. One can imagine the police trying to charge the dogs with larceny of livestock.
His hideout, high in the Warrumbungle Mountains, was not discovered until years after he had closed down his Australian operation and gone to America, presumably to set up a college to show them Yankee rustlers how the job should be done.
Burns.
If you come new into Gwabegar, the first thing you will notice is a Burns beside you offering a warm welcome. This is not because he’s lonely, overfriendly or just can’t stand his own company. It is his consuming thirst for knowledge. He wants to know your business. Later he will impress his other friends with his erudition. And if your character lacks sparkle his own database bulges with anything he might need to make it interesting. Having established a nodding acquaintance he will then find cause to want to fight you. As a knockabout with a pair of hands and some idea of how to use them you could beat him with your hat. THAT WAY LAY DISASTER. Beat him and he will return with a bigger Burns and there are plenty of assorted sizes in store.
Your path to fame will rise step by step until you arrive, no longer lacking previous experience, face to face with the old man himself. He isn’t the large economy size or the regular. He isn’t even the meager trial size. He is the free sample they hand out in hope you will try to taste it and, disappointed; buy some to find out what it tastes like.
Fighting a whirlwind would be relatively easy. At least there’s something to hit. There’s the wind, and usually assorted bits of paper and stuff. A moving target is a bit hard to hit at any time, but when it has shrunk to almost nothing and is the only thing moving faster than light it is even harder.
The best way to start up a friendship with that family is to stay with the smallest and send out punches that have onlookers staring in awe, but make sure that none of them ever lands on a Burns. Likewise, you make sure you do not get out of the way of anything he sends you. They are sent to your address and he expects you to be home to take delivery when they arrive. If one looks like missing you shift your carcass and make sure it doesn’t.
When he has decided you have had enough you will have made a friend for life. You will have taken a few little taps here and there, but the heavier stuff will now be reserved for others.
Thereafter, if any denizen of the district is seen talking to you his name will be added to the Burns feud list and marked for destruction. That is where the heavier stuff that could have come your way will be directed.
To survive intact in my home town you need to have plenty of low cunning.
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