HER name was Ike, and at three years of age this black-and-tan sheep-dog was wise beyond her years – and stubbornly faithful to her best mate, 22-year-old farm worker Abel Davis.

In mid-October, 1931, Abel, known widely by his middle name, Arthur, was ringbarking near Yetman, about 70 miles north of Inverell, on a property owned by Inverell businessman Ben Wade.

Wade owned grazing and farming properties in the Ashford, Yetman and Inverell districts, and was six months away from being elected to the NSW Legislative Assembly as the Country Party member for Barwon, a seat he would hold for eight years.

Wade had many business interests in the district. He owned a sawmill and brickworks in Inverell and had a controlling interest in local soft-drink company, Snowclad.

The aspiring politician was sitting in his office at the family homestead catching up on bookwork when Arthur was ringbarking trees about six miles away.

It was a cold day in early spring, typical of the region, and Arthur worked hard. Swinging an axe all day wasn’t a chore for soft men, and Arthur’s sweat flowed despite the mild weather.

It may have been the cold spring air or maybe Arthur’s fingers were clammy from sweat, but as he brought down the sharpened axe, it struck his foot, severing an artery.

Arthur screamed in agony, but his painful cries were heard by no-one.

Ike, his canine companion, was keeping guard at their campsite, a couple of miles away.

Arthur tore strips of cloth from his tucker bag and secured them tightly around his ankle to stanch the flow of blood.

The gash in his foot was deep, he was losing a lot of blood, and the closest help was six miles away.

Arthur attempted to make his way back to camp but the pain was simply too great.

After covering about half-a-mile across rough ground, he stopped to rest and figure out what to do next.

The tightly-strewn bandages around his ankle and foot were saturated with blood. Arthur tore fresh strips from his shirt and tied them off in a desperate attempt to stem the flow.

He continued for another few hundred yards but collapsed as nightfall set in. He was exhausted and weak from the loss of blood.

Arthur rested against a tree, semi-dazed, and tightened the strips of cloth around his calf and ankle.

As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he hoped against hope the makeshift bandages would hold. He thought of his sweetheart, Adeline. They were due to marry in six months’ time.

Meanwhile, Ike was guarding the campsite, a good distance away. She was instinctively worried her best mate hadn’t returned, but she didn’t panic.

Wide awake and alert to every sound and myriad movements the night could summon, Ike waited patiently for her master to show up.

Arthur stirred during the early hours and again started crawling through broken rock and prickly-pear.

At around 8am on Thursday, October 15, 1931, Arthur sighted his camp – and Ike sighted him.

She protectively snuggled against her best friend and kept them both warm as the cool morning air rose from the chilly ground.

Arthur found a scrap of paper and, with a shaky hand, scrawled “badly hurt, bring a cart”.

He tied the note with a bloodied rag around Ike’s neck and told her “home”!

But Ike refused to leave her injured mate. Arthur reluctantly gave Ike a clip under the ear, and forced her to head back to Wade’s homestead.

At around 10am, Ike began a journey across four miles of rugged country, negotiating two dog-proof fences along the way. She arrived at the homestead around midday.

Ike was footsore, tired and weary but far from beaten.

Station overseer Harry Brown saw the dog from a distance and immediately recognised her. Ike ran straight to him at full speed.

“What’s up, Ike? Where’s Arthur?”

When Ike heard her master’s name, she wagged her tail excitedly. Brown spotted the note and bloodied rag tied crudely around the dog’s neck.

Brown read the note anxiously and looked at Ike.

“Where is he? Where’s Arthur?” he pleaded.

Ike turned and ran towards a track leading through the scrub. After about 20 yards, she stopped, turned, and looked pleadingly at the station overseer.

Brown retrieved a pushcart from the barn and alerted station owner Ben Wade, who ran from the homestead to help.

Together, they followed Ike into the bush and this fiercely loyal black-and-tan sheep-dog guided them back to her injured master.

Brown and Wade found Arthur semi-conscious and bleeding. They carefully lifted him to the pushcart and cautiously headed back to the homestead.

Luck was on their side.

Their return coincided with a produce lorry, which had just loaded up and was heading to Inverell.

The driver helped Brown and Wade lift Arthur into the cabin – Ike leapt in beside her best friend – and the seriously injured farm worker was taken to Inverell Hospital.

Arthur made a full recovery, and was armed with a story he would retell for the rest of his life.

The following May he married Adeline Amy Barker and the marriage produced four children: Elizabeth, John, Margaret and Nita.

Sadly, Margaret, born in 1937, was killed in a horse-riding accident at the property Needlewood, near Bonshaw.

In 1954, Arthur filed for divorce from Adeline, and later remarried.

His son, Stuart, from Arthur’s second marriage to Joan Eva Tighe, a nurse from Armidale, said his father often spoke about the ringbarking accident and the dog that saved his life.

“Dad tied some blood-soaked rag around Ike’s neck. He told her to go get help and shooed her away. Dad blacked out, but when he woke up, Ike was still there. He hated doing it, but dad gave her a slap to make her leave. Ike showed up at the house with the bloodied shirt so they went looking, and found dad nearly dead,” Stuart said.

Ike lived a full life. So did her master, albeit tough.

Arthur, one of 15 kids to Laban and Elizabeth Davis, joined the light horse infantry while in his teens and in 1942 enlisted in the 29th Battalion Volunteer Defence Corps.

Moree historian Michael McNamara said brigades like the 29th were formed as part of the militia, for home defence in response to Japan’s entry into the war.

Lance Corporal Abel Arthur Davis, SN294471, was discharged on September 30, 1945 after three years and three months’ part-time duty.

“Members of infantry brigades were mainly World War I veterans and men who were rejected medically for full-time duty,” McNamara said.

“It also applied to men who were in essential employment, like farming. Most of these men attended camps over the course of a fortnight to do basic training.

“The 29th Battalion was from this area (Inverell and Moree), and other battalions were formed around the coast and Queensland.

“They did not go into action but were there if the Japanese did land in Australia. It was inaugurated on July 15, 1940 under the auspices of the Returned Sailors’, Soldiers’, and Airmen’s Imperial League of Australia – the RSL,” McNamara said.

In the late 1920s, Arthur and his older brothers, George and Ray, were part of the 12th Light Horse Regiment Ashford Troop.

The troop, formed in 1924, included members from Armidale, Glen Innes, Inverell, Ashford, Tenterfield, Emmaville and Uralla and were widely known as the New England Light Horse.

The Prince of Wales Cup, crafted from a solid piece of sterling silver in 1903 by London silversmiths Daniel and John Welby, was a coveted, punchbowl-style trophy measuring nearly 40 inches from handle to handle.

Competition began in 1904 and was open to all ranks of the Commonwealth Light Horse forces.

Teams competed in horsemanship, marksmanship using .303 rifles and Hotchkiss machine guns, navigation and tactics, and casualty evacuation.

In 1928, when Arthur was 18, the New England Light Horse Regiment brought home the Prince of Wales Cup under the leadership of Lieutenant Colin Nichols.

Arthur’s daughter, Nita, said the regiment won the cup for outstanding skills, horsemanship and team performance.

“Dad and his brothers rode white horses and we still have one of the trophies in the family,” she said.

In 1940, nine years after being saved by Ike, Arthur found himself before the courts, charged with illegally ringbarking trees.

It was alleged he ringbarked more than 1800 cypress pine, box and iron bark trees on a 1450-acre prickly pear lease he held, near his Bonshaw property Eldorado.

Arthur told Police Magistrate Frederick Scroope, 80 per cent of the pine on the property had no commercial value.

“The country was milled over in the last 10 years and about six years ago was cut out to produce poles for tobacco barns,” he said.

Much of the timber was defective, he argued.

“It would be no good for anything, and the other 20 per cent has not been touched; no box or other trees of any value have been taken,” he said.

Arthur told the court he had experienced “every class” of bush work, including cutting timber for mills, splitting posts and ringbarking.

“I don’t think the district forestry officer could teach me anything I don’t know about trees of commercial value,” he said.

Magistrate Scroope accepted Arthur’s arguments – almost admired them – and imposed a modest fine.

At the time, the maximum penalty for such an offence was £1 per tree.

If Magistrate Scroope had applied the full force of the law, the total fine would have been nearly $160,000 in new millennium dollars.

However, the magistrate fined Arthur a fraction of that – one penny a tree plus witness expenses and court costs.

Nita said her father knew tough times.

“Dad had a very hard life, but a full life. He worked hard, and was a very private man. He lost his second wife, Joan, 10 days after their son, Stuart, was born,” Nita said.

Joan was 37 when she died. She and Arthur had two boys, Robert and Stuart.

Abel Arthur Davis died in 1991 at Inverell. He was 82.

Like most men born and raised in the bush, he always had working dogs close by.

His last canine companions were a red Koolie sheep dog named Red, and a blue cattle dog named Blue.

Red was a descendant of Ike, the black-and-tan sheep-dog that saved her best mate’s life in 1931.

Words: Bill Poulos

Images: Supplied