y old mate Jim Gilmour is now well into his nineties and quite senile, alas.
But in his heyday he ran a successful sheep property in Western Queensland.
He told me many fascinating tales about his days as a grazier including the
following which he swore was the truth.
He owned a huge property and when his fencing required repairs at one
stage he employed a local Indigenous Australian to do maintenance. He did a
great job then, was required to do a final stage of the work on a very remote
portion of the area. There was a very old hut there in good condition in which
he could stay, and a nearby creek supplied water.
Jim would routinely drive out to the site to keep him supplied with provisions
and other comforts. After a few weeks he turned up and the bloke said, “Gilmour,
I’m outta here right now. There’s a bloke wot comes at night and he’s a bloody
X Ray Job.” Jim asked him to explain and he recounted how a man would appear
near the hut each night, never said anything, but he could see right through
him.
Even a boost in wages failed to persuade him to stay. So eventually Jim
drove back over to complete the task himself. While he saw nothing out of the
ordinary he felt something or somebody was watching him when darkness fell.
Having finished the repairs he got out with relief.
On checking the history of the hut he was informed that many years before
a horse trader had stayed at the town hotel and had flashed a great wad of
banknotes around after he’d had a few to drink. Proceeding on his way he camped
out in the old hut, but a local man had tracked him, bashed his head in with
an axe, and stole the money. Indigenous bush trackers helped the police to
catch the culprit who ended on the gallows.
y old mate Jim Gilmour is now well into his nineties and quite senile, alas.
But in his heyday he ran a successful sheep property in Western Queensland.
He told me many fascinating tales about his days as a grazier including the
following which he swore was the truth.
