practically mobbed these "outbackers," loading them, not merely with
cigarettes and candy, but before night came there was many a bushman
who had never seen a city before who carried a load of liquor that made
even his well-seasoned head spin. The "chain lightning" of the bush
was outclassed with the cinematograph whiskey of the city, that made
its moving throngs and streets pass before his eyes like a
kaleidoscope. A day or two in camp soon restored their balance. The
training en route bore fruit; their commandant was so impressed that
some of these regiments were equipped and officered, in a few weeks
embarking for overseas.

Men from these regiments can be picked out to-day in London. If you
see an Australian in a slouch-hat galloping his horse down Rotten Row,
expecting "Algy" and "Gertrude" to give him a clear course, be sure
it's a "Coo-ee!"

When some Australian sprawls in the Trocadero, inviting himself to
table with the Earl of So-and-so, asking him to pass the butter, it's
likely to be one of the "Kangaroos."

These Australians have had no master in their lives but the pitiless
drought; they respect not Kings, but they love a real man who knows not
fear and is kind to a horse. Masefield said of them in "Gallipoli":
"They were in the pink of condition and gave a damn for no one!"

There is a certain hospital in London provided by a certain grand lady
for convalescent Australians. She is very kind, but rather inclined to
treat the patients as "exhibits" and show them off to her "tony"
friends. The Australians bore this meekly for some time, but one day
it was announced that some high personages would be visitors. On their