Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake,
On the Range
(1891)
“ The Empress crept up to him, stride upon stride. No need to say Charlie was riding her now, Yet still for all that he had something in hand, With here a sharp stoop to avoid a low bough, Or quick rise and fall as a tree-trunk they spanned. In his terror the brumby struck down the rough falls Towards Yiack, with fierce disregard for his neck: Tis useless, he finds, for the mare overhauls Him slowly: no timber could keep her in check. There's a narrow-beat pathway that winds to and fro Down the deeps of the gully, half-hid from the day ”
