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Milson, who remembered me at Monkira some six years before, made me very comfortable. I left the following morning to cover the 37 miles to Diamantina Lakes Station. When I reached the Gum Holes, on the boundary of the two runs, I decided to camp. Mr.
Hope-above Williams and Keeper Milson, under-officers, and among the stoutest men in the company, were both down, the one dead and the other sorely wounded, but still ramming down charges, and spitting bullets into his gun-barrel. The two Stukeleys of Somerton, twins, and lads of great promise, lay silently with grey faces turned to the grey sky, united in death as they had been in birth.
About 40 yards from this spring there is another hole, the water of which is quite cold, and of an inky colour. This hole has attributes opposite to the other, that is a body will sink quickly in its water. The blacks have a tradition that a gin jumped into it, and was never seen again. These springs are on Springvale run. On arriving at the station, I found Mr. Milson was out mustering, but Mrs.
Milson turned up here, and from him I learnt that the Diamantina River, which was about seven miles ahead of me, was uncrossable, and that it was running about four miles wide. He instructed me that when I reach the river, I was to go to a high ridge two miles back, and make a large bonfire at night.
Debney gave us a splendid reception. The governess to the family afterwards became Mrs. R. K. Milson, of Springvale, and her eldest son lately was married to Miss Morgan-Reade, of Winton. On our return to Davonport Downs, we found Mr. McGuigan laid up with fever, so I took him into Winton. In November, 1884, Sir Thos.
"Yes?" "She said " "Yes, she said?" "She said, 'I must be patient. I must put up with the mother God has sent me." She lunches down-stairs on Sundays. We have her with us once a week to give her the opportunity of studying manners and behaviour. Milson had dropped in, and we were discussing politics. I was interested, and, pushing my plate aside, leant forward with my elbows on the table.
When we got into action they would drop behind, and we used them to send messages back to camp. The best motorcyclist we had was a Swiss named Milson. He was of part English descent, and came at once from Switzerland at the outbreak of the war to enlist. When he joined he spoke only broken English but was an exceedingly intelligent man and had been attending a technical college.
"Seen at the 'Jolly Tar', Ratcliff Highway, a low public-house frequented by sailors. Seen with two men, Dennis Wayman, landlord of the 'Jolly Tar, and a man called Milson, or Milsom. The man Milson, or Milsom, has since disappeared. Is believed to have been transported, but is not to be heard of abroad."
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