Pals: Young Australians in Sport and Adventure

by Carol Norton

  *CHAPTER XVII*

  *DINGO *_*V.*_* EMU: A FIGHT TO A FINISH*

  "Afar I mark the emu's run; The bustard slow, in motley clad; And, basking in his bath of sun, The brown snake on the cattle-pad, And the reddish black Of a dingo's back As he loit'ring slinks on my horse's track." GEORGE ESSEX EVANS.

  The next morning's visit told another tale.

  The dingoes, having recovered from their surfeit, hunger-induced, made asecond nocturnal trip to the feeding-grounds. Cunning and wary as theyhabitually are, they fell, some of them at least, before the wiles ofthe trapper. Four of their number paid the death penalty. Two femaledogs were caught in the traps set about the calves. The trapped animalshad not moved any great space.

  It should be said that the traps are not fastened to the spot whereonthey are laid; because, were they stationary, the dingo, especially thedog dingo, in his frantic efforts to escape, and by reason of his greatstrength, will frequently save his life at the expense of his paw. Thatdog, it is safe to say, will never be trapped again; as on the principleof, once bitten twice shy, he will ever eschew the most deftlyconstructed device of man.

  "The emu failed to elude the panther-like spring."--_Seep._ 134.]

  On the other hand, should there be no fastening, a strong dog will carrya trap for miles, especially if caught by the hind-leg. In order toremedy this, a device, similar to that which sailors use, called a seaanchor, is attached. A block of wood not too heavy is tied to the trapby a chain or a piece of wire. This acts as a check to the animal,besides leaving a broad trail that is easily followed up.

  When the trapped dingoes were approached they set up a dismal howling,which turned to a vigorous snapping with their teeth; the while theytore the earth with their paws in vain efforts to escape.

  "Put the poor wretches out of their pain," cried Sandy, after watchingthe agonised efforts of the canines for a few seconds.

  The trapper, armed with a heavy "nulla-nulla," dispatched the brutes,and scalped them; for the district Stock Board, to induce theirextermination, gave L1 per scalp, and experienced trappers like NoseyGeorge did well at times. They concluded that there was at the leastone other victim; for while the bitches were snapping and howling,answering howls of rage and sympathy could be heard in the distancealong the trail.

  The next act was to cremate the slain, which was speedily done. Afterthis the group proceeded to follow the track along which the othersnares were secreted. The very first trap contained a dog. It was setin the centre of a soft depression, at the edge of the scrub belt on thefarther side. The dog had dragged the trap about three hundred yards,when the "anchor," fouling in some saplings, his retreat was stopped.The beast was immediately brained and scalped, and the body flung into aclump of bushes.

  There was still another victim. The farthest out trap was gone.Nothing was to be seen but the trap-hole. George, however, was soon uponthe trail. The country here was fairly open, and offered littleobstruction to the determined dog. The track led on and on with littledeviation until a course of three miles or so had been traversed. Itnow curved outward and down toward a patch of scrub. Nosey suddenlystopped and pointed to the ground.

  "What's up, George?" exclaimed Joe, who stood nearest the trapper.

  "Look an' see fur y'reself."

  Bending over, Joe saw in a sandy patch the deep impress of the toes of alarge bird.

  "I can't make it out. What in thunder is it? Far too big for a crow;bigger even than an eagle or a bustard."

  "As big as two eagles, young mutton-head," declared the old tough."Tell 'im, Sandy."

  "Why, you greeney; that's an emu track!"

  "Emu!" shouted Joe in great excitement. "It's the first time I ever sawan emu track. What an enormous foot he must have."

  "Ye'd know it, me boy, if ivver ye got a kick," grunted the trapper."I've seen them break a dog's leg like a carrot."

  "Blest if I don't think he's follerin' up the dingo!" continued Joe.

  "Just wot 'e _is_ a-doin' of," answered the man. "These 'ere emus ismore curious nor a woman."

  Joe now remembered Sandy relating how his father used to lure the emu hewas stalking within shot of his fowling piece, by lying flat, and slowlywaving his handkerchief from the point of his ram-rod; or even doublinghis leg as he lay breast downward, and elevating his hat on the footthus raised. With slow and hesitating yet irresistible steps,fascinated by the mysterious object, or a victim to curiosity, the birdwould approach to its undoing.

  This particular emu was no stranger to the dingoes, nor they to him.Never before, though, had he beheld a dingo with such an appendage, orin such difficulties. The unwonted appearance of the canine furnishesthe bird with an unusual sensation, and queries in rapid succession flitthrough its brain. "What on earth is the matter with the limping,whimpering brute? What is that object trailing behind the horridcreature? Let me draw near and behold this great sight!" Fate hasdelivered his old-time enemy into his hands. That lolling, swollentongue, those blood-shot eyes, that painful whimper, the wild despairingglances; all these loudly proclaim his downfall. "Well, what matter!He's getting his punishment now. What is there to prevent me wiping outold scores?"

  And so, with cautious yet confident step the huge bird, second in sizeonly to the ostrich, strode on at a short distance behind his enemy; andin a few minutes both are swallowed up in the scrub. The huntsmenfollow well on the heels of the animals.

  "I wonder if the bird's still following?" asked Tom.

  "Soon see," answered the trapper, carefully examining the ground. "Nota quarter of an hour since he passed this spot: must be in the scrubstill."

  A minute or so brought them to the edge of the scrub. Pushing along,they were soon enwrapped in its gloom. Following the advice of George,the boys tied their horses to saplings at the outskirts of the belt, andproceeded on foot. Suddenly the trapper, who was leading, stopped deadin his tracks, and uttered a warning note in a low voice. Motioning thepals to remain where they were, he noiselessly moved forward, and wassoon lost in the thick foliage ahead.

  "Wonder why ole Nosey made us stay back?" muttered Tom, after the ladshad stood silently awhile. "What can be in the air, now?"

  "Hist!" exclaimed Sandy in a whisper; "he's returning."

  At this moment the trapper reappeared.

  "Follow as quiet as mice, an' ye'll see summat like wot ye've ne'er seedafore." There was an unusual gleam in the man's eye as he made thisdeliverance.

  Cautiously and silently the party moved Indian fashion through the wood.After going in this way a hundred paces or so the hunter stopped again,and beckoned the boys, indicating a stealthy approach. Very gingerlythey trod until they were abreast the man. Following his muttereddirections and example, they quietly parted the intervening brushwood.

  It was an unique sight on which their eyes fastened; one they would notreadily forget. Beyond them was a small natural clearing, such as oftenoccurs in the densest scrub.

  It was circular in form, and about fifty yards in diameter. Here,almost in the centre of the clearing, the bird had bailed up the beast.Curiosity in the emu had grown into anger, and was at a white heat,judging from the manner in which it pirouetted and menaced the dog,keeping up the while an incessant gabble. The gabble, rightlyinterpreted, declared that the time of vengeance was at hand. The fateswere thanked for being so kind as to furnish this fitting opportunityfor paying off old scores: "Here, you sneaking thief and flyingmurderer, stop! It's you and I for it now; so, off with your coat androll up your sleeves!"

  Nor was Master Dingo disinclined to accept the challenge thrown down bythe strutting bird. Weary as he was and full of pain, he was in nohumour to eat humble-pie, or to fly before another foe. His warringinstincts rose to the gage of his hereditary enemy. Many of his kindwere scarred with wounds from the terrible emu kick, or deep score madeby the horny toe of this formidable antagonist.

>   Nor could he retreat, if so inclined: behind him, to a certainty, wasthe monstrous biped; far more to be feared than this animated piece ofimpertinence, whose wicked eye squinted and winked in defiance.

  Forgotten in a moment is all fear, whether of the visible bird or theinvisible pursuers. Handicapped as he is, and goaded by his pain andshameful condition, the dingo fires the first shot, as it were, bymaking a sudden jump at the emu's throat, narrowly missing it, and stillmore narrowly missing the leg stroke of the bird as it made itscounter-stroke.

  Both bird and beast are practised in all the arts and devices of animalwarfare. Each knows the tactics of the other. But for the disabilityof the dog through the tenacious trap the chances would be in hisfavour; but his exhaustion and encumbrance give the odds to the other.Still, he makes a gallant fight, and the bird needs all its wits andagility to escape his savage snaps, one of which, had he been able tolay hold, would tear out the neck from throat to breast.

  The combat was at its height between these gladiators when the pursuerssighted them. The boys hold their breath in fair amazement as theyeagerly watch the two figures in the sunlit arena struggling for themastery. So engrossed are the combatants that the spectators may comeout into the open and surround them, for all the notice that will betaken of them. As it is, the boys' astonishment is quickly transmutedinto animal excitement and battle-lust. They take sides, and cheer, nowthe beast and now the bird.

  But the end comes quickly and tragically enough. The pace of theconflict tells terribly upon the dingo. He is now weakening fast; canhardly see, so bloodshot are his eyes. Yes, he can hold out but littlelonger. Realising this, he fights purely on the defence for breath.Then, concentrating all his energies in one last irresistible stroke, hesprings, arrow-like, and this time strikes fair on the bullseye--theneck of his adversary. The emu had failed to elude the panther-likespring. But now the counter-stroke!

  When the dingo's fangs close vice-like upon the emu's throat the bird'sfate is irrevocably sealed. The jugular vein is torn out with amouthful of flesh and muscle, and the skin is stripped to the bosom.What time this savage and fatal stroke is given the vengeful bird, byone terrific downward blow of its powerful leg and toes, disembowels thehanging dog; and then with a lightning side-stroke, delivered full onthe forehead of the prone beast, smashes in its skull. A vain attemptto crow a note of victory; a few short, uncertain, rotatory movements,life-blood gushing the while from its severed jugular, then a collapse,falling across the body of its slain adversary!

  Which of the two is the victor?

  The surprise of the boys, at the sudden and bloody termination of thefight, may be better imagined than described. They stared aghast forsome moments at the spectacle, too dazed to move or speak. Even thehardened bushman, George, was moved.

  "Well, of all the fights I ever seed, this licks creation; it's betternor cock-fightin'. Be gosh, 'twas a grand fight to a finish!"

  The trapper now busies himself with the scalping-knife, and, as the boysstand around, a feeling of sadness rises within as they contemplate theslain.

  "Poor brutes!" said Sandy feelingly, "I've a notion, lads, that theydeserved a better fate."

  "The boss wouldn't agree to that as fur as the dorgs is concerned. Asfer the emu, he's neither good nor bad," grunted the old man.

  "Well, after all," broke in Joe, "it's their nature, as old Simpson isalways preaching to us in school. They're not to blame for followingtheir instincts. By jings! there's no coward's blood in these poorbrutes,--they're as brave as brave."

  But such moralising was beyond Nosey George.

  "Emus is sight enough in a way, an' only eats grass an' roots,--butdingos! they're vermin, an' any death's good enough fur them. By thehokey!" exclaimed he as he looked at the trap; "I'm blamed if here isn'tthe blessed paw!"

  It was true. The wretched beast's foot was evidently so lacerated andbroken by its efforts to escape, and in dragging the trap, that when itmade the last and fatal spring the imprisoned paw parted from the leg inthe very act, and that severance enabled it to reach the emu's neck.Having secured the trap and the scalp, the group retraced their steps towhere they had hitched the horses.

  The haul proved successful beyond measure. To secure four dingoes inone scoop was a great stroke of luck. Not so much luck, on reflection,as skilful management. An amateur might have set a hundred traps withseeming skill and not have bagged a dog. No one save a trapper likeGeorge could trap with any degree of certainty.

  "I s'pose you'll bag the balance to-night," remarked Tom to the trapperwhen they had remounted.

  "No jolly fear! Never catch any more along this line."

  "How's that?"

  "Why, d'yer think a dingo's no sense? Be gosh! all the calves increation wuddent tempt what's left of the vermin to come along thistrack again. Wish we'd a' got the old dog, though."

  "What are you going to do next?" inquired Tom.

  "Fust an' foremost thing is to collect the traps, then we'll burn theweaners."

  "Won't you try for the other dogs?"

  "My oath, won't I?"

  "Give us your programme, George, there's a good fellow."

  "I'll try 'em about Razorback with the traps, as soon as they'vequietened down a bit. They've been scared out of their precious wits bythis 'ere business."

  In due time the party arrived at the homestead. Mr. M'Intyre expressedhis gratification at the result of the trapper's work, and praised hisskill. He further bade George continue his work until the beasts wereexterminated, promising him a liberal reward should he achieve this end.

  The boys related with great gusto, to an almost incredulous household,the particulars of the fight to a finish.

  The trapper fixed his camp in the hills, and employed his bestendeavours to trap the remaining dingoes with but partial success,securing one only. The old dingo, which on a former occasion had lefttwo of his claws in a trap, and now had received this additional frightthrough the ensnarement of his comrades, was not to be lured by anydevice, however crafty. George, who knew their run intimately,surrounded them with traps. 'Twas all in vain, set them never sowisely.

  This defiance and immunity irritated the old man beyond endurance, andhe swore by all the dignities to get their scalps, if it took him tillthe crack of doom.

  As he was camped on the ranges, in the vicinity of Razorback, his weeklyration was taken out to him by the boys, who were keen on this matter.They had been out twice with the rations, and now were being sent outthe third time. What befel them on that trip will be related in thenext chapter.