It was an immense affair, weighing over half a ton, and provided by a
thoughtful Government for the transit of travellers "stuck up" by the
river when in flood. An army of roughriders might have launched it, but
as bushmen generally travel in single file, it lay a silent reproach to
the wisdom of Governments.

Some jester had chalked on its sides "H.M.S. Immovable"; and after
tugging valiantly at it for nearly half an hour, the Maluka and Mac and
Jackeroo proved the truth of the bushman's irony.

There was no choice but a camp on the wrong side of the river, and after
"dratting things" in general, and the Cullen in particular, Mac bowed to
the inevitable and began to unpack the team, stacking packbags and
saddles up on the rocks off the wet grass.

By the time the billy was boiling he was trying hard to be cheerful, but
without much success. "Oh, well," he said, as we settled down round the
fire, "this is the Land of Plenty of Time, that's one comfort. Another
whole week starts next Sunday"; then relapsing altogether he added
gloomily; "We'll be spending it here, too, by the look of things."

"Unless the missus feels equal to the horse's-tail trick" the Maluka
suggested.

The missus felt equal to anything BUT the tail trick and said so; and
conversation flagged for a while as each tried to hit upon some way out
of the difficulty.

Suddenly Mac gave his thigh a prodigious slap. "I've struck it!" he
shouted, and pointing to a thick wire rope just visible in the moonlight