“Mine too,” gasps his brother, as rending cracks and portentous groans burst from the now shivering and swaying trees and rend the air. “Stand clear, mate,” yell both men as the now rocking trees make a half turn inwards on their bases, and then, bending gracefully over, as if bowing to their Creator, their sky-kissed tops sink lower and lower, until with a rending crash that echoes through the bush like thunder the two mighty monarchs of the forest fall side by side across the ravine, while ripping, tearing crashes announce the fact that the tough vines attached to them are tearing off huge limbs from other trees and, together with the concussion, bringing down a shower of dead wood. How the two axemen escaped was to me a mystery. I dearly love a fine tree, and, although by no means a religious man, always seem to fancy they are the property of the Almighty and that it is an act of sacrilege to chop one down--this idea still sticking to me after years of bush life. No such opinions, however, were entertained by the godless Blue-noses, who no sooner had the trees crashed down than they leapt on to table-topped stumps, jumped into the air, cracking their heels together, flapping their arms up and down and crowing like cocks. Rude as was their ebullition of delight, their wonderful skill was manifest, for the two mighty trunks lay across the gully, side touching side, and the framework of the bridge was an accomplished fact. “Guess you lobsters may be trusted to fill up that crack,” remarked Jake to a disgusted-looking colour-sergeant of the regulars. “Come on, boys, let’s lop and top t’other side,” and he ran across the bole of one of the trees as if it had been a coach road. There was plenty of hard work on the other side, so while the Tommies made a platform for the horses to cross by filling up the interval between the boles with brushwood, fern and mud, we set to to clear away the abatis of huge broken branches so as to allow them to get off the bridge when over. Faith, I found it bitter hard work, it being my first attempt at manual labour, as it was also my first attempt to use axe or tomahawk, and it was heart-breaking to compare my clumsy efforts with those of my experienced comrades. Moreover, although blessed with great muscular strength, I quickly found out that without skill it was of but little use to me, as my hands became dreadfully blistered and very painful, though I still continued slogging away for all I was worth. At last we were able to start getting the horses across, and a rotten job we had to manage the terrified animals, very many of whom had never seen a bridge in their lives before. Nevertheless by blindfolding them and making a staid, quiet old brute give them a lead we managed to get all over except four, who, plunging midway, fell off the rough structure, loads and all, into the now raging torrent, where they were at once swept away, and of course, as rations were scarce, all these loads were biscuits.