The milk had been
poisoned. "One fella feel 'em here," said my informant, clasping his
stomach. "Run away; tumbledown; finish. 'Nother boy runaway; finish.
just now plenty dead everywhere. Some fella sing out all a same
bullocky." Possibly this may be greeted as another version of the
familiar story of poisoned flour or damper. It is mentioned here as an
instance from the bad old days when both blacks and whites were offhand
in their relations with each other. Such episodes are of the past. The
present is the age of official protection, and perhaps just a trifle too
much interference and meddlesomeness.
Two blacks of the district confessed upon their trial that they had
killed their master for so slight an offence as refusal to give them
part of his own dinner of meat. On the other hand, an instance of the
callousness of the white man may be cited. In a fit of the sulks one of
the boys of the camp threw down some blankets he was carrying, and made
off into the scrub. It was considered necessary to impress the others,
and unhappy chance gave the opportunity. A strange and perfectly
innocent boy appeared on the opposite bank of the creek. The "boss"
was a noted shot, and as the boy sauntered along he deliberately fired
at him.
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