and again we formed parties to run in some of these animals,
and, after nearly galloping to death half-a-dozen good horses, we
would capture three or four brumbies, and bring them in triumph to the
homestead to be broken in. By the time they had thrown half the crack
riders on the station, broken all the bridles, rolled on all the
saddles, and kicked all the dogs, they would be marketable (and no great
bargains) at about thirty shillings a head.

Yet there is no sport in the world to be mentioned in the same volume as
"running horses", and we were very keen on it. All the crack nags were
got as fit as possible, and fed up beforehand; and on this particular
occasion White-when-he's-wanted, being in good trim, was given a week's
hard feed and lent to a harum-scarum fellow from the Upper Murray, who
happened to be working in a survey camp on the run. How he did open our
eyes!

He ran the mob from hill to hill, from range to range, across open
country and back again to the hills, over flats and gullies,
through hop-scrub and stringybark ridges; and all the time
White-when-he's-wanted was on the wing of the mob, pulling double. The
mares and foals dropped out, the colts and young stock pulled up dead
beat, and only the seasoned veterans were left. Most of our horses caved
in altogether; one or two were kept in the hunt by judicious nursing and
shirking the work; but White-when-he's-wanted was with the quarry from
end to end of the run, doing double his share; and at the finish, when a
chance offered to wheel them into the trapyard, he simply smothered them
for pace, and slewed them into the wings before they knew where they
were. Such a capture had not fallen to our lot for many a day, and the
fame of White-when-he's-wanted was speedily noised abroad.

He was always fit for work, always hungry, always ready to lie down and
roll, and always lazy. But when he heard the rush of the brumbies' feet
in the scrub he became frantic with excitement. He could race over the
roughest ground without misplacing a hoof or altering his stride, and he
could sail over fallen timber and across gullies like a kangaroo. Nearly
every Sunday we were after the brumbies, until they got as lean as
greyhounds and as cunning as policemen. We were always ready to back
White-when-he's-wanted to run-down, single-handed, any animal in
the bush that we liked to put him after--wild horses, wild cattle,
kangaroos, emus, dingoes, kangaroo-rats--we barred no