Chapter Nine

Chapter Eight

As The Crow Flies South

The going wasn’t getting any easier for the three young adventurers as they moved slowly through the tangled mass of bush. It had now been close to three hours since they had left the forge, but with the absence of any form of timepiece, and their minds solely focused on keeping a southerly course through the ever-approaching scrub, the march of time had simply slipped on by. The torrential downpour they had experienced earlier in the day had now turned the ground into a slippery mat of mud and grass. A canopy formed by the overhanging branches of eucalypts and red stringybark prevented the hot midday sun from drying out the sodden earth beneath their feet. Some twenty yards ahead, Joseph noticed that the trees were starting to thin out, and he could at last see glimpses of open country ahead.

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Come on, boys, it looks like we’re finally free of this damned bush.’

Urging old Sally on, Joseph led her out into the welcomed relief of the open sparseness of ground and the cool southerly breeze that now swept gently across his face. As he looked across the tops of the distant trees to the west, Joseph could see the Warby range, dressed in its bluish-green coat as if patiently awaiting the arrival of its young visitors, and to the east, not more than five hundred yards away, the tree-lined presence of the mighty King river.

The three boys dropped down in the long grass, totally exhausted. It had been a long hard trek through the scrub and their young aching bodies were crying out for a moment’s relief. Daniel lay on his back and looked up at the sky, mesmerised by the way the scattered white clouds drifted so peacefully across the sea of blue in ever changing shapes. Joseph checked his compass and was satisfied their heading was correct. He had tried to keep as straight a course as possible from the forge but still wasn’t sure of how far they had travelled. The thick scrub had slowed them down significantly and it was almost impossible for him to work out the distance.

Fred McAllister, though, was having a good guess at the time, and in his expert opinion it was after midday. ‘Joe, I think it’s a lot later than we thought. Have a look at where the sun is, mate.’

Joseph looked up and realised to his surprise the sun had travelled more than half way across the sky. ‘You’re right, Fred. It must be at least twelve o’clock or even later. We’ll have a bite to eat and then get crackin’.’

Fred turned to Joseph with a rather concerned expression on his face. ‘Joe, are you larking? It’s taken us five hours to get this far. You know we have to be back home by half past three or we’re dead meat.’

Joseph knew only too well what trouble they would be in, but the struggle to get this far was not going to sway him from what he had set out to do, given the possibility of what lay in those ranges. ‘Look here, Fred,’ he replied. ‘If we can’t find that hut in the next couple of hours we’ll head for home, okay?’

Fred wasn’t all that convinced there was even a hut to find, but after a bit of consideration decided to go along with his mate. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he had felt the sting of his father’s belt on his backside.

Joseph looked across the open ground to even more waiting bush in the distance, taunting and daring them to enter the realm of its ancient domain. ‘What if we’re on a wild goose chase?’ he thought. ‘Maybe there isn’t a hut or even a waterfall in the first place.’

Joseph was starting to question himself, but his determination was much stronger than his doubts. He took a bite from his corned beef sandwich that Daniel had so thoughtfully prepared for him and looked back to the Warby range.

It didn’t matter what time of day it was or where the blazes they were, Daniel would stick by his big brother’s side until Joseph said otherwise, or that is, until Daniel decided he was bored.

Fred took a swig from his water bottle and passed it around. ‘The water’s getting a bit low, boys; I think it would be a good idea to top it up from the river before we go any further.’

Daniel was up to the task as usual and volunteered to ride Sally, giving her the chance to take a well-earned drink as well from the river’s edge. Joseph gave the okay and without a second thought, Daniel was up on the old mare’s back and trotting off in the direction of the lush trees that almost concealed the riverbank.

Seeing his brother riding off brought even more doubts to Joseph’s mind. ‘What on earth am I thinking? I shouldn’t be letting him out of my sight!’

He jumped to his feet, causing Fred to look up in surprise. ‘Come on, mate, I think we’d better follow Danny to the river.’ By the time the two pursuers finally caught up, Daniel’s clothes were lying in a hurried pile on the ground next to where Sally was drinking, but there was no sign of Daniel.

Feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach, Joseph started screaming for his brother. It was obvious Daniel had decided on a swim, but the river’s flow would have most certainly carried him downstream.

Running frantically along the bank, Joseph’s eyes scanned every inch of the water’s surface as he pushed his way relentlessly through overhanging branches and stumbled over half-hidden roots. Joseph continued to scream out his brother’s name, but there was no reply. The more he screamed for Daniel, the more panic-stricken he became, and with the panic came the instinctive prayer for his brother’s safety followed by the unthinkable fear that he might have lost his brother forever. Joseph followed the bank as it turned to the west, but still there was no sign of Daniel.

Joseph’s ears strained to hear above the sounds of the river and the parrots that had congregated like a noisy audience in the trees along the bank. Definitely, there it was: a faint cry for help. Taking off in a run, Joseph followed the sound of the cry. Not more than thirty yards further downstream, he could see his brother clinging tenaciously to a thin branch of a sapling that had half fallen into the river, its young roots barely holding in the wet soil.

‘I’m coming, Danny! Hold on! I’m coming! I’m coming!’

Finally reaching his helpless brother, Joseph looked urgently around for Fred. He was nowhere to be seen.

‘Hold on, Danny! Whatever you do, don’t let go!’ Joseph could see the sheer look of terror on Daniel’s face as he screamed out desperately for his brother to save him.

Fred had finally caught up and took hold of the sapling’s slim trunk, trying in vain to support Daniel’s weight from the tree’s failing hold. Fred could see that if Joseph tried using the tree to reach Daniel, they would both end up being victims of the mighty King. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Fred heard the sound of the slender young roots breaking from the weight of the two brothers. Screaming at Joseph to help him hold on to the sapling, Fred pulled back with every ounce of strength.

Joseph was now up to his knees in the river. He took a firm hold and held on with all his strength. The roots finally gave way, leaving Joseph and Fred in a tug of war with the surging current, both battling for the life of young Daniel.

With the boys pulling one way, and the river pulling the other, the sapling began to wheel its way closer and closer to the bank until at last Daniel could feel the mud beneath his feet. Fred held on for dear life while Joseph waded through the shallow water to take hold of his brother’s grasping hand and pull him to safety. Letting go of the sapling, Fred watched as Daniel’s lifeline of nature quickly floated away and disappeared into the far reaches of the river.

Holding his naked brother safely in his arms, Joseph’s mixed emotions started to take hold; he wasn’t sure if he should kiss him or simply strangle him. ‘What am I going to do with you, Danny? I can’t leave you to do one simple thing without you getting into trouble.’

‘It’s okay, Joe,’ Daniel sobbed. ‘I promise it’ll never happen again.’

Daniel continued to give his brother an endless litany of excuses for his unfortunate and most dangerous predicament, but Joseph knew his brother only too well and no matter how hard Daniel tried to explain his actions, he was having none of it.

Joseph had just about decided to return home when he was distracted by the sight of Fred kneeling at the river’s edge a little further upstream, examining some strange-looking object.

Fred beckoned the boys over to reveal to them what he had found. ‘Look at this, Joe; it looks like somebody’s been panning for gold. My father has something like this at home. He used it years ago when him and his father used to go prospecting. He reckons there used to be gold found all over these parts in the old days.’

‘Gold – really?’ Daniel asked, his natural curiosity returning.

‘And this isn’t all I’ve found,’ Fred continued. ‘There’s a shovel and some sort of old wooden box over near the bank.’

Joseph was intrigued with what Fred was telling him, and with his uncontrollable sense of adventure taking hold, he followed Fred to where he had found them, leaving the naked and dripping Daniel to bring up the rear.

‘Where do you think they came from, Fred?’ asked Joseph, who was by this time thoroughly examining the mysterious box.

‘I don’t know, mate, but whoever’s been using them has been here recently. Have a look at this.’ Fred pointed to numerous footprints that had been left in the soft ground, leading backwards and forwards from the nearby bush.

Filled with curiosity, the three boys followed the footprints until, as if by magic, they mysteriously vanished into a wall of tangled bushes.

‘What do you make of that?’ asked Fred. Joseph had no answer for his mate, but it didn’t take too long before they found out. Daniel, being Daniel, already had his head buried deep in the undergrowth, bending over and desperately trying to see what was on the other side. Fred could not help but notice Daniel’s bare and defenceless  backside taunting him as it transformed itself into an unmarked target. He procured a small sharp twig to use as a spear and delivered a quick jab to his target with effective accuracy.

Caught off guard by this sudden attack on his private parts, Daniel gave out an almighty scream as he reeled backwards, his flailing hands clutching at branches in the hope of preventing an imminent fall. Fred and Joseph doubled over with laughter at the result of the practical joke, but the prank had produced another result, much to everyone’s amazement.

In his fall, Daniel had taken half the bushes with him. On closer inspection the boys realised that the wall of bush was placed there solely to hide the track on the other side.

This discovery changed Joseph’s mind about returning home; all he could think about was where the track led, and what they would find at its end. Turning to Daniel, Joseph told him to gather his clothes and bring Sally up from where they had left her.

‘Joe, what are you doing?’ asked Fred with a look of wonder on his face. ‘I thought we were heading back home!’

‘Not yet, Freddy; we’ve still got plenty of time. This track is leading into that bushland we saw on the other side of the open ground. If it’s heading in the direction I think it is, we might find that hut a lot sooner than we thought.’

While they waited for Daniel, Joseph pulled the map from his pocket and started to read the second part of the strange poem. ‘Three miles as the crow flies south… Strong drink to wet a dusty mouth…..A miner’s hut along the bogs…… Will keep you from blue coated dogs. I think we’ve covered that three miles, Fred, and I’ve kept us on a southerly heading from the old forge. I’m almost certain that hut has got to be close by.’

Fred was starting to feel a little uneasy; he could already feel the sting of his father’s belt, which he was now inevitably going to be facing.

Miraculously avoiding any more disasters, Daniel had now returned fully clothed and leading the old mare. With a clear and well-used track to follow, the three boys straddled the old plough horse and headed off in search of the illusive miner’s hut. For the first time since they had left the farm, the boy’s spirits were high. Riding, instead of walking on very sore feet, had put them all in a cheerful and relaxed frame of mind.

In a fit of irrepressible high spirits, Daniel started to sing, ‘Then come along, me hearties, and we’ll roam the mountains high,’ but was constantly interrupted by the ridicule of his two companions. Not to be deterred, Daniel simply raised his voice and continued to finish his vocal masterpiece until the firm squeeze of Joseph’s hand on his shoulder brought him to silence. ‘Danny, shhhhhh! Listen!’

Daniel stopped to hear what his brother was going on about. In the distance, the sound of music rang out faint but clear as it echoed its way down the track, only to momentarily fade as it filtered through the trees.

‘I think someone’s playing a concertina,’ remarked Fred with a smile. ‘It sounds just like the one my uncle Charlie plays when he’s had a few too many whiskies.’

The further the boys rode down the track, the louder the music became. Along with the music, the tantalising smell of roasted meat drifting on the afternoon breeze teased their nostrils with the heavenly aromas of a Sunday dinner.

Another two hundred yards brought them to the crest of a slight hill, and also to the source of the unexpected festivities. The track wound down sharply to the south. Tucked away amongst a mass of wattle brush sat an old hut, from which white smoke rose silently above the yellow winter blooms until finally stealing away on the back of the southerly breeze.

 The boys rode slowly but cautiously towards the old dwelling. They could see that the surrounding ground was strewn with more junk than they had seen in their grandfather’s shed. Old carts without wheels, broken barrows, wooden boxes filled with empty bottles, piles of cut firewood and numerous other items they could not even hope to identify peered out from the long grass.

Their arrival went unnoticed until the sudden barking of a dog brought the music to an abrupt silence.

Sally pulled back, starting to shy. The sudden appearance of a dog bounding towards them from the shadows of the open front door made the three young travellers none too easy either.

‘Shit!’ cried Daniel. ‘We’re gonna get eaten!’

‘Shut up, Danny, and keep calm -- don’t let the dog know you’re frightened of it,’ said Joseph, trying hard to remain calm himself.

‘Look it straight in the eyes, boys,’ Fred added. But upon doing so, they were surprised to see that their canine adversary had but only one eye and was, in their opinion, older than their grandfather.

 Realising he had been out-bluffed, the old dog started wagging his tail and sat in silence, looking up as if he was pleased with the arrival of his three young visitors. Relieved by the thought of not getting ripped apart, Daniel slipped from the safety of Sally’s back and proceeded to give the old dog a pat.

‘Come on down, fellas, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Look, he’s a good old boy.’

Joseph turned to Fred with a look of disbelief, both knowing that the only one who was totally terrified was the small person now patting the one-eyed dog. The one thing the small hero of the day had not noticed was the dog’s owner. A very old man with a full grey beard, dressed in a filthy grey flannel shirt tucked into a pair of equally filthy pants, was by this time limping towards them with a shotgun aimed squarely in their direction.

‘What’s you little buggers doing on me property?’ he shouted angrily. ‘This be private property and you’s gots no rights to be ‘ere. If yous don’t git, I’lls bloody well shoot ya!’

Daniel stood upright and instinctively raised his hands in the air as if to surrender, and Joseph and Fred did the same. The blood drained from Daniel’s face as the short-lived hero wet his pants out of fear of being riddled with buckshot.

‘Pplease ddon’t shoot us mister, wwe’re only kids,’ pleaded Daniel, who now found himself standing in a pool of his own urine. ‘We don’t want to cause you any trouble.’

Looking at Daniel, the owner lowered his shotgun and immediately broke out into fits of laughter. ‘We ’ad em goin’ fer a while, didn’t we, Nelson? Now, you two buggers git off that old mare.’

Without hesitation, Joseph and Fred dismounted and were soon standing at Daniel’s side.

‘So who mights you blokes be? The three musketeers, I s’pose.’

Joseph stepped forward. ‘We didn’t mean to bother you, mister; we’re looking for a miner’s hut somewhere near the bogs.’

The old man looked at Joseph curiously. ‘And why woulds you’s be lookin fer such a place?’

Not wanting to reveal the secret of their quest, Joseph hesitated for a moment, only to have Daniel interject, ‘We’re searching for hidden treasure.’

On hearing this, the old man broke into laughter once more. ‘Treasure, is it?’ he asked. ‘Well, ya won’t find any bloody treasure out here, son.’

Before he could ask any more questions, Daniel had one for the old man. ‘What have you got cooking, mister? We could smell it from the river. We haven’t smelt anything that good for a long time.’

The old man wasn’t stupid and knew exactly what Daniel was hinting at. ‘A bit hungry, are we, son? Well, it’d be bloody rude of me not ta invite you’s ta join me.’ Turning his back on the boys, he limped slowly back to the hut with dog and Daniel close on his heels, followed shortly by Joseph and Fred.

Hesitating at the front door, the boys were a little reluctant to enter, but the magnificent smell coming from the fireplace was too much of a temptation. Before they realised what they were doing, they found themselves standing in the centre of the hut’s only room.

The hut’s construction, on closer inspection, seemed to defy gravity. Joseph could not lay an eye on one piece of upright timber that could possibly prevent the old bark roof from falling in on them. The walls were built of iron bark palings, but none seemed to join or lay horizontally. A solitary window at the front of the dwelling was missing its glass, but the window’s frame was secured with at least a half dozen good-sized nails bent over at their ends. Slender beams of sunlight sprayed the air from every crack and crevice as it caught the fine particles of dust that seemed to float endlessly around the room. Hessian bags of all sizes covered the earthen floor, a stark contrast to the carpeted timber floors at the Delaney home. In one corner, a pile of old yellow newspapers waited to be used for any purpose their owner deemed fit. Possum skins on walls replaced photographs and paintings, and an old wooden table, solitary chair and cupboard were its only furnishings.

Joseph turned his gaze to the old man leaning over the piece of skewered meat in the fireplace. The sight of the flames leaping from the dirt hearth and sweeping up the mud brick chimney transported him into a soothing hypnotic state, while old Nelson lay at his master’s feet patiently waiting for a share of the feast.

Turning to face the boys, the old man directed his first order to Daniel with a point of his finger. ‘Shorty! Come over ’ere and stand by the fire.’ Daniel’s heart started to pound as he walked uncertainly to the fireplace; images of being roasted alive flew into his overactive imagination.

The old man bent down and whispered in his ear. ‘Stand ’ere until yer pants dry; I don’t wants ya eatin’ with me in wet pants.’

‘You!’ he now barked to Joseph. ‘Get some of them papers and lay them out on the table and be quick about it.’

The older boys scurried to do as they were told.

‘Do you want me to lay out the plates, too?’ Joseph asked.

Staring at him for a few seconds with a blank expression on his face, the old man for the second time broke out into fits of laughter. ‘Plates! Plates! Yer not at ’ome now, sonny. What d’ya think the bloody papers er for, a tablecloth? I s’pose ya think we’s got knives ’n’ forks too.’

Pulling out a large hunting knife from his belt, the old man waved it in front of Joseph’s embarrassed face. ‘See this, boyo? This is all the eatin’ stuff I need.’

Placing it back in his belt, he immediately gave his third order to Fred. ‘You can make yerself useful ’n’ fetch three boxes from outside; or does ya wanna stand when ya eat?  I’s only got one chair ’n’ that’s mine, unless ya wanna makes sometin’ of it.’ Fred wasn’t hanging around to be asked twice, and quickly made his exit to search for their makeshift chairs.

With Daniel’s pants now almost dry, the boys took their places at the table and waited patiently for the return of the cranky old cook and his fine offerings.

The old man dropped the steaming piece of meat in the middle of the table. He produced his knife once more and began slicing large pieces from the bone. After doing so, he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a large jug and an empty glass jar which he placed in front of him at the table. As soon as he had filled his jar with what the boys thought smelt like kerosene, the order was given to tuck in.

Not hesitating for a moment, Daniel grabbed a handful of meat and proceeded to stuff as much in his mouth as physically possible. Not even the steam rising from the hot meat was enough to deter him from taking his fill -- that is, until it was too late. Spitting the contents back onto the table, Daniel instinctively grabbed the old man’s jar and took an almighty swig, praying it would extinguish the fire that was now raging in his mouth. The sensation he was now experiencing was worse than the simmering meat. Whatever was in the jar had Daniel gasping for breath as the rest of the table looked on in complete astonishment.

The old host, who thought he had seen everything in his long and hard life, shook his head. ‘Ya nothing but a bloody little pig, that oughta teach ya!’ he said, but the tortured expression on Daniel’s face was enough to bring him once more into fits of laughter, which was echoed by Joseph and Fred.

‘I’ve never laughed so much in years,’ the old man cried as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

When the table had finally settled down, Daniel began to start his meal once more, but this time his approach would be a little more cautious. The old man alternated mouthfuls of juicy meat with swigs from his jar, and the boys noticed that the more he drank, the more friendly and relaxed he seemed to become.

With their meal finished, the old man eased himself slowly from his chair and picked up the concertina that sat idle in the corner. ‘Okay you buggers, how’s abouts a little tune?’

Tapping his feet to the music and singing along, the old musician seemed nothing like the angry man they had encountered when they first arrived. Daniel soon joined in and before long the boys were dancing around the room without a care in the world, forgetting for a moment the reason they’d come to the hut in the first place. A few too many swigs from his jar brought the old man staggering back to his chair with the aid of Joseph and Fred. Staring at the boys through glassy eyes, he started to speak.

‘Ah, it’s times like this I miss comp’ny. Not too often, mind ya. But it’s good to shares good times wi’ good folk.’

‘Have you lived out here all your life?’ Daniel enquired.

The old man shook his head. ‘Many years ago I use ta own a small farm in Glenrowan. Then I ’s lagged for liftin’ a mare from a  squatter named Witty ’n’ they’s put me away fa three years. When I gets out I’s left wit notin’. I finds out the traps it were who stoles the mare, so’s I built this hut ’n’ this is where I stays. It’s bin me home for fifty years.’

Joseph cautiously asked. ‘Then I suppose you would have been here when the Kelly gang was around?’

The old man smiled, took another drink from his jar and continued.

‘Good ol Neddy ’n’ the boys, now they’s was the good times. They’s was lagged by the traps jus’ like me. Bloody blue-coated dogs, that’s what’s they was. Did I tells ya the gang came here many a time ta hide out an have a few drinks. They’s was good boys, every one of ’em.’

Whatever it was the old man was drinking from his jar had loosened his tongue and put him in a very talkative mood. Joseph realised this and tried making the most of his host’s inebriated state while Daniel and Fred sat back listening to his every word. Before Joseph had a chance to continue his interrogation, the old man started to ramble once again. ‘There use ta be huts all over ’ere when the gold was on, but now it’s jus’ ol Jock McTabish ’n’ me mate Nelson who’s left.’

Joseph could not help but feel sorry for the old man. He could clearly see the pain and loneliness in old Jock’s eyes as he took another swig from his seemingly bottomless jar. Realising his vulnerability, he quickly changed his mood and turned to Joseph, staring him squarely in the eyes.

‘An’ what gives you’s the right ta come ’n’ bother ol Jock, ay? What are you little buggers lookin’ for? Yers gots no right ta be ’ere anyways.’

Joseph was lost for words; old Jock had caught him off guard. Still not completely sure if he could trust him, Joseph bowed to his instincts and produced the map from his pocket. ‘We found this map in our granddad’s shed and thought it would lead us to treasure.’

Inquisitively, old Jock took the map from Joseph’s hand and ran his eyes over the curious document. ‘This is just a map of the bush, boyo, with nuttin’ but crosses and dots.’ Shaking his head with a look of amusement, old Jock was about to hand it back to Joseph when he caught sight of the writing on the back. Squinting and straining his eyes to read the words, he slowly read them aloud. Joseph had assumed the old man could not read -- many of the bush folk could not -- but he soon realised the newspapers were not just for the sole purpose of lining the table.

When Jock finally finished there was nothing but silence. The tears started to flow down his wrinkled and weather-beaten face as he returned the paper to Joseph much more reverently than he had taken it. ‘D’ya know what ya got ’ere, sonny? This be a note from a ghost.’

Jock produced some sort of rag from his back pocket and blew his nose. ‘The bloke who writ this note was Joe Byrne; I’d knows that scribble anywhere. What a bloody larrikin he be. Ya knows he were Ned’s right hand man ’n’ loved writing poems. Ya say ya found this in ya granddaddy’s shed, ay? An’ what might his name be?’

‘Oh, it’s John Delaney,’ replied Joseph casually.

For the first time since they met, Joseph could see old Jock was genuinely excited. ‘You’re young Delaney’s grandson? I don’t believe it. Now there’s another bloody larrikin for ya. I knows his father when I hads me farm back in the fifties. Ya should be proud ta have that name, sonny; I shoulda known. That short little bugger as gots ta be ya brother – why, he’s a dead ringer for ya granddaddy when he was that age.’

Joseph thought this might be a good opportunity to ask a few more questions before they continued their journey.

‘Do you think your hut could be the one this Joe Byrne fella is talking about in the poem, mister?’

The old man stopped him in his tracks. ‘Don’t calls me mister, sonny. Me names Jock, and yous being who ya says ya are, ya can calls me Jock, just plain ol Jock.’

Joseph felt quite privileged by the honour bestowed upon him but repeated his previous question. Old Jock smiled and just nodded his head. ‘That’s right, sonny, I makes the strongest grog in the whole damned country.  That’s why Joe useta comes round so much. The grog seemta take his mind off the bloody traps.’

Joseph had realised earlier that Jock’s reference to traps and blue-coated dogs had meant the police. Each time Jock had used those words, the anger and hatred on his face was quite apparent, even after all this time.

Daniel and Fred wandered outside with Nelson while Joseph continued his conversation. ‘Do you know where we might find this old bullock’s track, Jock?’

‘Ah! the bullock’s track. Years ago when the tree felling was on fer the railway, there used ta be a sawmill. The bullock teams useta pulls the logs down from the range. The track be well used but that were over forty year ago. From whats I sees by this map, ya gots a coupla miles a bush and then open country til ya gets close to the range.’

Joseph listened to what Jock was telling him and knew it was going to be no easy journey to the falls. The rays of sunlight had all but disappeared from the hut and the afternoon air was starting to get cool. Joseph was fully aware they had no chance of making the falls by sunset; the early retirement of the winter sun would make sure of that. He was now left with the difficult decision to return home or continue on with their journey. He knew their mother would be waiting for them to arrive at the store by half past three, but he also knew they had no chance of making it back in time for their appointment. Even if they made for home, they would not arrive before at least six o’clock, and would most certainly face their mother’s wrath, not to mention the absence from school and the unapproved use of their grandfather’s mare.

The more he thought about the consequences, the more he was convinced that continuing their journey would be a heck of a lot safer. Joseph thanked Jock for the unexpected meal and walked out into the yard to meet up with Daniel and Fred. After Joseph explained the valid reasons for not returning home, the two boys eagerly agreed to continue.

Realising that either way he would cop a good hiding from his father’s belt, Fred’s only comment was, ‘Oh well! In for a penny, in for a pound.’ Daniel didn’t really care; he would go wherever his big brother went.

Jock had disappeared briefly into the hut but soon returned carrying a good sized parcel. ‘Ere ya go, me boyos. I’s just cut ya of some of that roo meat we’s had fa dinner.’ The three boys turned to Jock, their jaws dropping in disbelief. Gazing in silence at the parcel wrapped in newspaper, they could not help but wonder what part of the kangaroo their host had so thoughtfully served them for dinner.

Looking up to the afternoon sun, Jock gave the boys a fair indication of the time. ‘I’s reckon ya gots bout two hours a daylight left, boyos.’

Pointing to a sharp mountain peak rising prominently to the south of the distant range, the old man gave the boys their course. ‘If you’s heads toward that peak fa bouts two miles, you’ll gets ta dirt road. Keeps goin fa bouts a mile ’n’ you’s hits the track. Follows the track toward the range till you’s find the hut, dat’s if it’s still there.’

As he listened to old Jock’s every word, Joseph started to feel uncertain about the unanimous decision to continue their trek to these mysterious falls, and he worried that they might never find them. ‘What if we are looking for something that doesn’t exist?’ he wondered. ‘How will we ever find the hut and the giant red gum? If we do find the falls, what are we looking for, and what about mother? Poor mother, she’s probably worried half to death.’

Joseph looked in the direction of their home, and then turned his eyes towards the peak and the challenges that lay ahead. The call of the range was far too strong. The thought of giving up and never knowing what they might find did not sit well with him. They would continue their search no matter what the consequences. The three young boys thanked Jock once more and started off in the direction of the Warby range, each turning their heads briefly for one last farewell to their newfound friend.

The old man, with Nelson by his side, watched as the small party made their way through the trees, eventually disappearing from his sight. Jock had lived alone for many years, and over those years had been hardened by the harsh treatment he had received from both man and bush. The arrival of the boys had somehow filled his heart with a sense of belonging and a long-forgotten feeling of not being alone, even if it was for just a brief moment. How he wished he was going with them on their journey to the falls, but the urge was soon lost as he sat back down at the table and took one more swig from his bottomless jar.