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Updated: May 29, 2025
One day she gave us a start. We were schooling a new team of four horses. We had to pass Bootha's camp. I looked about as we neared it but saw nothing of her. Suddenly from the ground, as it seemed, out dashed the weird old figure, arms full of things, jabbering away at a great rate. Whiz came a tin plate past the leaders' heads; the offside horse reared and plunged and took some holding.
"We don't know anything about yer bloomin' oranges.... I seen one of the saloon passengers moochin' round for'ard last night. You'd better search the saloon for your blarsted oranges, an' don't come round tacklin' the wrong men." It was not necessary to search our quarters, for the "offside" steward was sweeping orange peel out of the steerage for three days thereafter.
Through the offside window Cranbourne caught a glimpse of the man in charge of the dray horses a powerful person, high perched, his weight thrown bask against the tightened reins his face purple with effort. From his mouth came an admirable flow of oaths, choicely adjusted to suit the occasion. Then Cranbourne saw something else.
Queen-wasps, however, also on the American plan, ruled the word "impossible" out of their dictionary long ago. They "attempt the end, and never stand to doubt." The queen came to rest on a bare patch of ground an front of a hole, and a black and hairy spider, with two hindlegs missing on the offside, spun round in the entrance of that hole to face her. He had not been noticeable until he moved.
Petey bowed very low and swore that rather than make another touchdown on Kiowa he would suffer wild horses to tear him into little bits. Then Klingel began to get offside. "You hear what I say, you little shrimp!" he said politely. "If you don't take this thing and quit your yawping I'm going to make you do it." "Listen, you overfed mountain of pork!" said Petey, with equal cordiality.
As Shackles went short to take the turn and came abreast of the brick-mound, Brunt heard, above the noise of the wind in his ears, a whining, wailing voice on the offside, saying "God ha' mercy, I'm done for!" In one stride. Brunt saw the whole seething smash of the Maribyrnong Plate before him, started in his saddle and gave a yell of terror.
The fourth bottle went wild, but the fifth exploded six inches in front of the offside wheel and its jagged fragments ripped out the heart of the tire. On the instant of the accompanying blow-out the grey car shied like a frightened horse and swerved off the road, hurtling headlong into a clump of trees. The subsequent crash was like the detonation of a great bomb.
"Thank the Lord there's no one looking, and it's a decent old saddle with a pommel on the offside," he said to himself piously, while he grasped the curving snout of the pommel in question, "I'd be a dead man this minute only for that." He felt as though he were wedged in among the claws of a giant crab, but without the sense of retention that might be hoped for under such circumstances.
Kiowa took the ball, but the umpire butted in. It was an offside play, he declared, because it wasn't a king at all. It was a queen and it was Siwash's ball and ten yards. That made an awful row. The Kiowa captain declared that the whole incident was "very regrettable," but the umpire was firm.
Jim sat on the offside and passed him the lines just as he sang cheerily out: "Heigh-ho my honies go!" The two mares bounded away so quickly and keenly that the near mare struck her quarters and jumped up into the air, running. Her off mate settled to work, trotting as steadily as a bolting Caribou, but pulling viciously.
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