After I left College I went to work on Mr George Bartrum's farm at Makirikiri and grubbed gorse, which was rather plentiful on that property. I was there only about three months, then they sent me up to Matahiwi, where Mr Bartrum had a large holding. Those days we travelled up the Wanganui River by paddle steamer, for there was no other access up the river then.

Mr Bill Smith was the manager, unmarried, so we bached together. On this property large areas of bush were being felled each year and about five or six bushmen were camped in tents at the back of the farm. I was really only the cowboy, but I was no stranger to this kind of work because I was brought up on a way-back country farm. I had two dogs to help with the mustering and stock work.

BOLTING PACKHORSE

One of my jobs was packing stores out to the bushmen. I was riding a horse and leading a flighty bad-tempered horse carrying the stores. I got off to open a Taranaki gate and led the packhorse through, but while I was mounting my hack the packhorse got uneasy and bolted. There were tree stumps everywhere on the rough ground along the ridge and the bags of flour, sugar and boxes were crashed against the stumps in the horse's flight.

There was a trail of flour and sugar for nearly half a mile. While the horse was bolting, the pack-saddle slipped under the horse's belly and he got rid of what was left, kicking at it until it parted, and only the lead rope was still around his neck. I went back to tell the manager and he said with a few hot words, "forget it", so we went out next day to catch him, but couldn't. We eventually hunted him towards home.

DROVING

In the autumn we drove the surplus sheep along old six-foot tracks through private properties to the Wanganui sale yards, and I think it took about five days. A big part of the old six foot track had slipped away in places and at times they had to be driven over in almost single file. It was a tedious job; most times I had to go ahead when we came to farms, to ask them if they would clear the way for us, to let our mob get through without getting boxed up. When we camped at night we slept with someone at each end of the mob.

One place we came to had an old tumble-down whare. It was raining, so we tried to sleep in it, but it seemed our vibration brought alive hundreds of fleas. I could see fleas hopping all over the floor, so we ended up sleeping outside.

When I wanted a little relaxation, I either went up to the Duthie's place or went pig hunting. I had quite a narrow escape from a big wild boar which the dogs bailed above me on a very narrow ridge. While I was moving up this razor-top ridge, the boar broke and came dashing down and knocked me sideways down a steep sidling. I was not hurt, so I went after him again, but had no luck. While in the bush, I discovered there were lots of freshwater cray fish in the tiny stony creeks, so I carried a bag and took lots home for a meal.

HATRICK'S PADDLE STEAMER

The Bartrums' woolshed was a few miles away from the homestead, and the sheep were driven down there to be shorn, the woolshed being quite near to the river. We used to roll the woolbales down the paddock to be loaded onto one of Hatrick's flat-bottomed boats.

The only way in or out of the valley was by paddle steamer, which carried tourists as well as the settlers. They had a bar on the boat and it did fair trade with whisky, gin, beer, etc, especially to the bushmen who hadn't been out to the city for a long time. Most bushmen used to stay until their job was finished, and came out with a big cheque.

On the trip coming up the river, the big paddle steamer had to negotiate rapids, so they hooked onto a rope that went up the rapids and the steamer winched its way up. There was one of these rapids near Matahiwi and one day they thought they could get up without the rope, but the boat turned sideways. It grated on the bottom, appearing to nearly roll over. The captain, Ken Stewart, gave a few terse orders, while some of the passengers were in a bit of a panic. The boat leaned over sideways with the water almost pouring over the decks.

TOWNIE BRIDES

After being up the Wanganui River, I got a job working for my three brothers, who had taken up a farm just past Paparangi. There was no road to the property, only a track made by sheep moving around, and this was called the 'Staircase'. There was already a house and woolshed on the property. When my oldest brother Hugh got married he took his townie bride there to one of the loneliest places there was, without any outlet. After a while my other two brothers decided to build another house, pit-sawing their own timber for it.

Then my oldest brother moved to another farm, although he still had an interest in this property. So when they had finished building the new house, the two brothers had a house each and they got married and did likewise, bringing their townie brides to this lonely place.

I had many experiences in this lonely place amongst wild pigs and quite a few kiwis. We used to burn off acres of water fern, which smoked the kiwis out and they were easy to catch after being in dense smoke. We brought one kiwi home and kept him in a big wire netting enclosure. He was a very large bird and used to come out of his hide when it was getting dark. We fed him on minced meat and any worms or grubs we could find, but he took a lot of feeding and looking for worms took up too much time, so we let him run free again.

We had several packhorses and used them to pack out the wool in huge bags, three on each horse to pack to Paparangi, where we baled it up, and it travelled to Kai Iwi railway by horse wagons. The road was not metalled, so I often walked to Kai Iwi in the winter.

SLEDGED PIANO

I had very unusual loads to pack from Paparangi down the Staircase to my brother's farm. One time I had some half and three quarter inch pipe about fifteen to eighteen feet long. I had nothing to cut it with, so at the gorge I had to unload and carry it to the other side. I also packed in furniture such as sofas, big arm chairs, and even a small sideboard and table.

My brother Sid and I made a sledge about eighteen inches wide and six feet long and transported a full-size piano down to their house. We got there after a long tedious job. We had a very quiet steady horse to pull the sledge with piano. We nearly lost the whole outfit going around the gorge. My nerves were not so good and I felt shaky at times. I wonder if the piano is still there.

BALL CARTRIDGE

My brother Sidney and I had quite a funny experience one day when we rode out to go around the sheep. Sid carried a shotgun while I carried a .45 Colt revolver, which I bought off a bloke for ten shillings. We sighted a huge black boar about 50 to 60 yards away and could not get any closer without disturbing him, so Sid decided to use the shotgun with a ball cartridge. Bang! The boar fell after such a lucky shot, and while we approached he lay kicking and struggling on the ground.

Sid got a hold on the boar, so I handed over my revolver for him to finish him off while I held the horses. He fired a bullet into his head, he kicked worse, so he fired another, then the boar broke loose and tore down the steep sidling with Sid jumping over logs and using all the cartridges in the Colt's chamber as he went.

Our two dogs bailed the pig with his backside against a large log. Sid was leaning over trying to grab the pig's ear, but the old boar won the first round and managed to rip Sid's fingernail nearly off. Sid came up for the shotgun while the dogs still bailed the boar. He went down and shot the boar. We had a look at the boar's head and found that the .45 Colt bul lets had only just gone under the skin and had not penetrated the head.

BUCKING BRONCO

I had another funny experience myself. I used to stay later to take the tucker out to where my brothers were working. I had to go through a horse paddock, so I thought I would get on the old grey pony. I got aboard, but my bronco bucked like mad and I came off, being bowled up against a big stump. I could hear the enamel chipping off the enamel billy, the cups being broken and the tucker getting very messy. I had to go back for another supply. They told me afterwards this beast had been a circus pony and was taught to buck when ridden bareback.

One morning my brother Sid and I rode out to bring in the packhorses. On the way we flushed a big black boar and the dogs took after him. He bailed down in a small creek. The dogs were not holders, but Sid man aged to get a hold on the boar's back leg, held the pig's leg up high so he could not do any harm. We had nothing to kill the pig with and tried to drown it but the water was not deep enough, so Sid sent me back to our hacks to get a stirrup leather. We strapped the front and hind legs together. We drove the packhorses home, then returned with a rifle. He had very long heavy tusks.

LAWYER VINE

A few days after this, I was looking for dead totaras to split posts and battens from, and my two dogs bailed a large boar that was handy. He was bailed with his behind under a log in the second growth that had lawyer vines above. He stayed bailed very well while I cut enough lawyer vine away so as to get a good swing with the axe. I was very lucky, for he stayed put until I swung the axe. The blow just about buried the blade in the bump above his eyes. It was another good trophy.

I had a trip one day across to Gresham's property, that bounded the main bush, and I think I saw the most wild pigs at one time ever. They were going up the ridges to the bush just like sheep being mustered.

MY OLD BIKE

When working for my brothers, it wasn't long before the exceedingly bad slump of 1920 and most farmers couldn't afford paying wages. In the meantime I had bought an old three-and-a-half horse-power Triumph motorcycle for twenty-five pounds. It had no gears or clutch, was belt driven and had to be pushed to start. As soon as it started, I had to hop on and was O.K. until I came to a long country hill, then I had to hop off and run beside it.

If I couldn't make the hill, I would loosen a nut to widen the pulley so as the belt would slip. I got over the hill most times, but it took a lot of energy and sweat. There was no metal on the Paparangi Road those days and the surface was very rough. This bike had a carbide lamp and I had to turn on the very slow water drip that caused the carbide to give off gas for the headlight.

One day I was going to the end of the Paparangi Road to that no-exit farm which my three brothers had bought after the First World War. On my way to there I had a little accident. I saw a man riding a horse in the paddock nearby and just as I was passing him I went into a long dip in the road and gave the old bike more speed to climb the other side but there was no metal and I struck a wet patch at the bottom. The bike skidded badly, off I came and the bike skidded on its side, ahead of me.

The rider came over in a flurry, and said "Are you alright?" I said, "Yes!" "What speed were you going?" "Oh, about 30 mph!" He said, "It's a wonder you were not hurt; anyway it serves you right for going so fast." My bike's maximum speed was 30 mph.

When I got to the end of the road, men with block drays, shovels, and wheelbarrows were forming the road to the Wanganui River. That was as far as I could get with the bike. I hid the bike, put a cover over it, then proceeded to walk down what they called the 'Staircase' to my brothers' farm. The only tracks were caused by the sheep, except around a small gorge near my destination.

ON THE WORRY

After I had the machine for some time, I decided to have it repaired because it gave trouble, so I took it to a repair shop.The mechanic said it would cost twenty pounds. He took months to do the job: just as well for me for I was clean broke. Finally I had a note come from the mechanic saying the bike was ready. I went to see him and he said, "That's twenty pounds." I said, "I can't pay you now." "Oh well, I'll have to sue you." I really thought I might have to go to jail, but after a while I was able to pay him off. What a relief, I was on the worry for about four months and was still out of a job.