DIGITIZED BY PETER KILLACKEY THE BUSHRANGERS - CATTLE STEALERS James Bonwick - 1856 The wild and rugged character of the island [Tasmania] caused frequent dispersion of cattle, and afforded facilities for clandestinely conveying them to distant markets. At certain times it was the usage of a settler to proclaim a branding season. Accompanied by several stockmen, the surrounding country was scoured, and all the young cattle driven into a yard. The neighbours visited the mob, and claimed, if they could, any supposed to be of their own breeding; the rest received the settler's brand, and became his undisputed property. A funny story is told of an out squatter in the early days, once an unwilling servant of Government, and subsequently one of the richest carriage nabobs of the Colony. Observing one day a stockkeeper riding by with a mob of fine young beasts, he hailed him, and asked him to drop in and take a bit and a sup. Nothing loth, he dismounted and entered the hut. The liquor was good, the company was agreeable, and the sun was going down. The host urged the absurdity of going off at that time, pressed the man to stop for the night, and offered the stockyard for his cattle. The offer was accepted. The evening was passed in a most jovial manner, and loud and long was the merriment. Slipping out to the kitchen for a minute, the hut-keeper thus adressed his spouse: "Now, Molly, the irons, old gal."No further hint was requisite. The branding-irons of the honest settler were soon heating in the fire. While the two men were quaffing the rum in pannicans, and singing a rather irregular and not very harmonious chorus, the careful wife was applying the brand in the stockyard. The morning came. The man must go, and this time the host does not press so warmly. "Well," said the traveller, "now I'll thank you to take down the bars, and let my cattle out, for master will be looking out for 'em." "Your cattle," exclaimed the astonished and indignant host. "Yes, mine, that I put in the yard last night," was the reply. "I don't know what you mean," said the other; "that rum must have been paguy strong last night to make you dream of a herd." The man now petulently cried out, "Come, old ----, don't be a fool, and stand there funnig me, there's the cattle that you told me to put in your place; now, drop the rails, and let us be off." The settler shook his head, and assuring his friend that he was woolgathering, calls his better half for her evidence. She knew the young fellow had called at the hut, and had eaten no small amount of damper, and quite finished the bottle of spirits; but she never heard of any cattle in their parts, except her old man's, and they were in the yard. "Why," said the bewildered man, "they're the ones I mean." "O!" sung out the other, "that's easily settled; look at the brand, and see if it's yours." The poor fellow began to suspect that he had fallen into the hands of the Pilistines. He approached the yard, and looked at the cattle; there was the brand, fresh, it was true, but still there was the brand. He was sold. Muttering curses loud and deep, he rode sulkily away, while the worthy pair retired to chuckle over their cunning and their gain. Another story is told of the same individual, evidencing the like character of wit with an equal amount of honesty. A long continued course of success in the art of mobbing, branding, and slaughtering had made him less cautious about his operations, and less particular about the subjects for the trial of his skill. The consequence was, that some skins which had received another mark, and which ought to have been destroyed to avoid misconceptions of his motives, were unluckily found upon his premises by the rightful owner. The case was so clear that the offender was fully committed to trial. This was the period when all such investigations were carried before the Supreme Court at Sydney. The skins were consigned to a cask, and carried with the prisoner on board a vessel sailing from Launceston. On the voyage the respected accused seemed far from uneasy at his position. He was not a poor man, and was, therefore, allowed every indulgence by those who had drunk of the rare stock of liquors he had ordered on deck. The day arrived. The case was gone into. Nothing could be clearer thought the judge and jury. According to the form, the prisoner was carelessly asked if he had anything to say, &c., "Yes," said he, "re's been plenty of swearing about me, but no proof." "Proof," cried the prosecutor, "produce the skins." "Just so," replied the innocent victim, "if the marked skins are produced, well, then, I suppose I'm guilty." The cask was brought, and the head knocked off, when, lo and behold, it was full of kangaroo skins! The prosecutor stared, the judge bewildered, and the accused was indignant at this treatment of him--an honest man. Somehow, on the voyage, gold fell into the sailor's hands, the bullocks' hides got sunk to the bottom of Bass's Strait, and the harmless kangaroo skins were safely headed in the cask. The return voyage was a merry one. Doubtless the gentleman was afterwards more observant of the brands of his neighbours, as no other trip to Sydney was required. The cattle stealers roamed about sometimes in large bands. Even so late as May, 1833, a horde that had committed wholesale depredations in the North East District, were attacked by a strong party of mounted police. The result of the engagement was more food for the scaffold in the shape of nine victims. A fearful story is told by Jorgenson of a couple of such villians roasting a man alive. They had secured a fine beast, and were in the act of taking away the hide, when an old man unexpectedly came upon them. Neither astonished nor conscience struck at the spectacle, but desirious of sharing the spoil, the old fellow sang out, "Halloa, I'm in for a feed there." The robbers were not well pleased at the interruption, and doubted the new-comer's power or willingness to keep his tongue still upon a future occasion. However, they expressed no suprise at the time, but merely told him to gather wood for the fire. A merry crackling of sticks soon followed, and the flame was strong and clear. When all was ready, and the old man was chuckling at the prospect of steaks, he was suddenly seized, thrown down, wrapped up in the green and smoking hide, and secured within its folds. A lift and a heave, and he was in his mummied covering lying on the blazing mound. The heat of the fire shrank up the skin, which clasped the yelling wretch in its tightening embrace. As this death shroud rocked about among the live embers with the agonizing struggles of the old man, one of the brutal murderers cried out, "See, how the devil grins."