it struck him that it would be a good idea to burn the tree out, and
so use up the logs and lighter rubbish lying round. So he widened the
excavation, rolled in some logs, and set fire to them--with no better
result than to scorch the roots.

Tom persevered. He put the trace harness on his horse, drew in all
the logs within half a mile, and piled them on the windward side of
that gum; and during the night the fire found a soft place, and the
tree burnt off about six feet above the surface, falling on a
squatter's boundary fence, and leaving the ugliest kind of stump to
occupy the selector's attention; which it did, for a week. He waited
till the hole cooled, and then he went to work with pick, shovel, and
axe: and even now he gets interested in drawings of machinery, such as
are published in the agricultural weeklies, for getting out stumps
without graft. He thought he would be able to get some posts and
rails out of that tree, but found reason to think that a cast-iron
column would split sooner--and straighter. He traced some of the
surface roots to the other side of the selection, and broke most of
his trace-chains trying to get them out by horse-power--for they had
other roots going down from underneath. He cleared a patch in the
course of time and for several seasons he broke more ploughshares than
he could pay for.

Meanwhile the squatter was not idle. Tom's tent was robbed several
times, and his hut burnt down twice. Then he was charged with
killing some sheep and a steer on the run, and converting them to his
own use, but got off mainly because there was a difference of opinion
between the squatter and the other local J.P. concerning politics and
religion.