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Some of the mountain country, like Omeo, that they talked a lot of, seemed about one of the most out-of-the-way places in the world. More than that, you could get back to old New South Wales by way of the Snowy River, and then on to Monaro. After that we knew where we were.
We heard of a job at Omeo while we were in Sale, which we thought would just about suit us. All the cattle on a run there were to be mustered and delivered to a firm of stock agents that had bought them; they wanted people to do it by contract at so much a head. Anybody who took it must have money enough to buy stock horses.
The price per head was pretty fair, what would pay well, and we made up our minds to go in for it. So we made a bargain; bought two more horses each, and started away for Omeo. It was near 200 miles from where we were. We got up there all right, and found a great rich country with a big lake, I don't know how many feet above the sea.
G. A. Robinson, at a salary of 500 pounds per annum. He took up his residence on the then sweet banks of the Yarra, and made excursions in various directions, compiling a dictionary. He started on a tour in the month of April, 1844, making Alberton his first halting-place, and intending to reach Twofold Bay by way of Omeo.
Across the mountain, north of Lake Omeo, not far from the mighty cleft in which the infant Murray spends his youth, were two huts, erected years before by some settler, and abandoned. They had been used by a gang of bushrangers, who had been attacked by the police, and dispersed.
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