Explore "A Sydney-Side Saxon" by Rolf Boldrewood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WE were finishing up the third day, and I was wondering whether the plain would ever come to an end, when Talgai sings out 'Wagh!' and pointed with his chin, like all blacks do. I looked and looked, but deuce a thing could I see. At last I made out a whirlwind coming our way. When it came closer it turned out to be a run-away horse in a buggy. On he came, a fine-looking bay horse in good condition, at a pretty smart gallop. He had a buggy behind him, with the hood all on one side, and he making it rattle like a canister tied to a dog's tail. The splash board was stove in, but there wasn't much chance of its being upset, as there were no stumps, and not a tree within five miles; still it jumped up into the air, and swung about every now and then, as if a little would make it capsize. We rode at the horse, as soon as he passed us, from different sides. I got him by the head, and we managed to stop him between us. He was reg'lar set up, and pulled hard at first, but got quiet to lead after a bit. I made Talgai go ahead and follow the back tracks, which of course he could do easy enough, though I couldn't see half a mark on the baked dry soil.
After going about three miles, Talgai pointed to a dark object at the edge of the plain; what it was I could not make out. 'That one Mahmee bin fall out alonga buggy I believe,' says he.