It was in those days, so lately fled, when horseless carriages were acuriosity beyond the seaboard. Some young bloods had made the journeyfrom Sydney to Melbourne in one as the most enterprising adventure atcommand following the picturesque performances of the Boer War, and hadthereby rendered themselves as glamorous as minor flight pilots of lateryears. Desirous of inspecting the country which produced theirhigh-priced staples, a few German or French wool-buyers had penetrated bycar to the Southern Tableland, but these were foreigners, and in localconsideration, their potentialities were outweighed by theirpeculiarities.It was another pair of sleeves when Sandy Lindsey and his son Ross cameback from Sydney with a car of their own. Motor cars became a personaland local concern from Canberra to Brindabullah, Bombala to Yass, andback again to Bandicoot, and the kernel of gossip. Nothing had sotitillated the neighbourhood since Mabel Barry "went wrong."There was panic among the horses. Even the most ring-boned and sluggish,as though of instinctive premonition, stood on their tails and withterrified snorts and breathings, regardless of culverts or cuttings,backed from the devilish monster which threatened their existence. Horsebreeders were derisive. Wait till the horseless wonder started up when noone was in it and careered over a precipice or crashed into a shop windowin Monaro Street! Such evil-smelling, unnatural contrivances should bestopped by law. What were innocent women, mothers of large families, todo when a man had the right to make the roads unsafe for them? People whodrove cars were murderers.