Four miles beyond the bore Joe Harman sat at the mouth of his small tent. It was pitched in a clearing in a thick patch of bush in the bottom of a little valley. A heavy log stockade or corral had been built in this clearing and stood immediately behind the tent; the movable logs that formed a gate had been pulled down and the corral was empty. Joe had built a fire before the tent, and he was boiling up in a billy over it.
A man lay inside upon a bed of brushwood covered with a waterproof sheet, with a blanket over him. Joe turned his head, and said, "What happened, Don? Did they rush you when you got the pole down?"
From the tent the man said, "My bloody oath. They pushed the pole back on to me and knocked me down. Then about six of them ran over me."
Joe said, "Serve you bloody well right. Teach you to go muggering about on other people's land." There was a pause. Then he said, "How many of mine did you get last year, Don?"
" 'Bout three hundred."
Mr Harman laughed. "I got three hundred and fifty of yours."
From the tent Mr Curtis said a very rude word.
Jean drove the utility slowly up to the tent with Bourneville riding beside her; she took out the gear and stopped it with a sigh of relief. Joe came to her as she sat there. "What's happened to Dave?" he asked. "Didn't he come back?"
She told him what had happened. "I thought I'd better have a go at driving it up myself," she said. "I've only driven a car about three times before. I don't think I've done it any good, Joe."
He stepped back. "Looks all right," he said. "Did you hit anything?"
"I didn't hit anything. I couldn't get the gears in sometimes and it made an awful noise."
"Do they still work?"
"Oh, I think so."
"That's all right, then. What were the creeks like?"
"Pretty high," she said. "It came over the floor of the cab."
He grunted. "Get along back as soon as we can. I wish this bloody rain'ld stop."
She asked, "Is Mr Curtis here, Joe?"
He nodded. "In the tent."
"What's wrong?"
"Got his leg bust," he said. "Compound fracture-that's what you call it when the bone's sticking out, isn't it? I think he's got a broken ankle, too."
She pursed her lips. "I brought up that trunk with your splints and things."
He asked, "Do you know about breaks? Ever been a nurse or anything like that?"
She shook her head. "I've not."
"I've had a look at it and washed it," he said. "I set it well as I could, but it's a mess. I made a sort of long splint this morning and tied it all down on that. We'll get him down to hospital, soon as we can. It's been done two days."
They set to work to strike camp. They removed the tent from over the injured man and he saw Jean for the first time. "Hullo, Miss Paget," he said. "You don't remember me. I saw you in Willstown, day you arrived."
She smiled at him. "You'll be back there in a little while. In the hospital."
Once as she worked she turned to Joe with a puzzled expression. "Whose land are we on, Joe?"
"Midhurst," he said. "Why?"
She glanced at the corral. "What's that for?"
"That?" he said. "Oh, that's just a place we put the cattle in sometimes, for branding and that."
She said no more, but went on with her work; once or twice a little smile played round her lips. They worked a blanket underneath the brushwood bed as the man lay upon the ground, and lowered the tailboard of the utility; then, with infinite care and great labour they lifted him on his bed into the body of the truck. The man was white and sweating when they had done and a little blood was showing on his lip where he had bitten it, but there was nothing else that they could do to ease his pain.
They started off at about nine o'clock, Joe driving the utility, Jean riding in the back with the injured man, and Bourneville following behind, riding and leading the two horses. They passed the bore and went on for about five miles till they came to the creeks. The water was considerably higher than when Jean had crossed a couple of hours earlier.
They crossed the first without difficulty, though the water was in the cab of the utility and only just below the floor of the truck body on which the sick man lay. They came through that one and went on. At the second creek the water was higher. Joe stopped on the edge and consulted with Jean and Bourneville about the crossing they had made before. It seemed shallower fifty yards above the point where Jean had crossed; Joe sent Bourneville into the water on his horse to sound the crossing. It looked good enough, so he drove the utility into the water.
It grew deep quickly, and he accelerated to keep her going. The bottom, under the swirling yellow flood, was very rough; the big car went forward leaping from boulder to boulder under the water. Then she came down heavily on something with a crunch of metal, and stopped dead.
Joe said, "Jesus," and pressed the starter, but the engine was immovable. Oil began to appear on the eddying yellow surface of the water, and slide away downstream in black and yellow tails. He stared at it in consternation.
Jean said, "What's happened, Joe?"
"I've cracked the bloody sump," he said shortly.
He got down into the water from the cab, feeling his way gingerly; it was well above his knees, close on waist deep. He called Bourneville and made Jean pass him a coil of rope from the back of the truck. The utility was only about ten yards from the bank. They made a sort of tandem harness for the three horses with lariats that they carried at the pommel of the riding saddles, and harnessed this team to the back axle of the utility, groping and spluttering under the water to do so. In ten minutes the vehicle was on dry land; a performance that left Jean awed by its efficiency.
She got down from the back and went to Joe, who was lying on his back under the front axle. She stooped down with him to look; the cast iron sump was crushed and splintered. "Say it, Joe," she said quietly.
He grinned at her, and said, "It's a fair mugger." He picked the broken pieces of cast iron from the hole, and got out from underneath. He went and got the starting-handle from the cab and turned the engine carefully. He sighed with relief. "Crankshaft's all right," he said. "It's only just the sump."
He stood in deep thought for a minute, starting-handle in his band; the rain poured down upon them steadily. She asked, "Where do we go from here, Joe?"
"I could patch that," he said, "good enough to get her home. But then we haven't got any oil. It's no good going down to fetch the truck the way these creeks are rising." He stood watching the water for a minute or two. "Never get the truck through by the time it got here," he said finally. "There's only one thing for it now. He'll have to be flown out."
The country round about was covered with rocks and trees. "Is there anywhere an aeroplane can land here?" she asked.
"I know one place it might," he said. "Five hundred yards, they want, and then a good approach."
He took his horse and went off to the south; by the river they unpacked the tent and arranged it over Don Curtis to keep the rain off him. The wounded man said faintly once, "Joe Harman's a clumsy mugger with a car. He's a good poddy dodger, though."
Jean laughed. "Pair of criminals, the two of you," she said. "I'm going to have a word with Mrs Curtis."
"Don't do it," he said. "She don't know nothing about this."
She said, "Lie still, and don't talk. Joe's gone off to find a place where the aeroplane can land to fly you out."
"Hope he makes a better job of it than he did driving this bloody truck," said Mr Curtis.
Joe came back in a quarter of an hour. "Think we can make something of it," he said. "It's only about a mile away." With Bourneville he harnessed up the tandem team of three horses to the front axle of the truck, and with Jean at the wheel they set off through the bush, steering and manoeuvring between the trees.
They came presently to an open space, a long grassy sward with low bushes dotted about on it. It was more than five hundred yards long, but there were trees at each end. It would be possible to make an airstrip there. "Clear off some of those bushes," Joe said, "and fell some of those trees. I've seen them use a lot worse places than this."
An axe and a spade were part of the equipment of the utility; they had tools enough. Their labour was quite inadequate for the work. "We'll have to get the boys up from Midhurst," he said. "Everyone that's there. And get a message down to Willstown about the aeroplane."
She said, "I'll ride down with Bourneville to the homestead, Joe. Then he can bring the boys back, and I'll go on to Willstown."
He stared at her. "You can't ride that far."
"How far is it?"
"Forty miles, to Willstown."
"I can get to Midhurst, anyway," she said. "If I can't go on I'll send Moonshine in with a note to Sergeant Haines. He's the best man to tell, isn't he? "
"That's right. If you do this, there's to be no riding alone. If you go on from Midhurst to town, you've got to take Moonshine or one of the other boys with you. I won't have you trying to cross them creeks alone on a horse."
She touched his arm. "All right, Joe. I'll take someone with me." She paused. "We could get on the radio from Willstown," she said. "We could get some people over from Windermere to help you then, couldn't we?"
"That's right," he said. "It would be better if we had a radio at Midhurst." He paused. "There's one thing that they'll all want to know," he said, "and that's where this place is. We're about six miles west-south-west of the new bore. Can you remember that?"
"I've got that, Joe," she said. "Six miles west-south-west of the new bore." She paused. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'll make a camp here." He looked around. "I'll pitch the tent over the back of the utility," he said. "We don't want to shift him again if we can help it, not until we get a stretcher. After that I'll start and fell some of those trees for the approach."
"What about your back? " she asked.
"That'll be all right."
She thought of swinging a two-handed axe to fell a tree. "Have you done that, Joe?"
"No, but it'll be all right."
She said, "If you're going to cut down trees I'll take back what I said about not riding alone. I'll send Moonshine up with the other boongs to help you here."
"You're not to do that," he said. "It's not safe for you crossing them creeks."
"It's not safe for you to swing an axe," she said. "It won't help if you go and ruin your back up here, Joe." She touched his arm again. "Let's both be sensible," she said. "The work you'll do in cutting down those trees alone is only what the boongs will do in an hour when they get here. Don't take risks, Joe."
He smiled at her. "All right. But you're not to ride alone."
"I'll promise that," she said.
It was about half past ten when they put her up on Joe's horse, Robin. Robin was a much bigger horse than she had ridden before, and she was rather afraid of him. He was little, if any, wider for her to straddle than the horses she was used to, and Joe's saddle was much better than the casual saddles she had been using up till then; it was soft and worn and supple with much use and yet efficient and in very good repair. When they got the stirrups adjusted for her legs she found herself fairly comfortable.
She started off with Bourneville at a slow trot through the trees, and so began a feat of endurance which she was to look back upon with awe for years to come. She found the horse docile, responsive, and energetic; moreover, he had a very easy gait when trotting. At the same time, the bald fact remained that she had only been on a horse six times before, and never for more than an hour and a half at a time.
The rain had stopped for the moment, and they came to the creek and waded through the tumbling yellow water, Bourneville close beside her. They came through that one and went on, walking and trotting alternately. After an hour they came to the second creek and found it very deep; Bourneville made her take her feet out of the stirrups and be prepared to swim, holding to the horse's mane. That was not necessary and they came through to the other side in good order, and then the creeks were over.
"Too deep for the utility," she said.
"Yes, Missy. Him too deep now."
No creeks now lay between them and Midhurst; it remained only for them to ride. The rain began again and soaked her to the skin, mingling with the sweat streaming off her. Very soon the wet strides began to chafe her legs and thighs; she could feel the soreness growing, but there was nothing to be done about that. She had said that she would ride, and ride she would.
She found, on the good going that was before them now, that she could get along faster than Bourneville. She was on a much better horse, and a horse that was fresh whereas he had ridden his from Midhurst with the utility. Frequently she had to slow to a walk for him when Robin would have trotted on, and these walks helped her, easing her fatigue.
They came to Midhurst homestead at about half past two. By that time she had a raging thirst, and she was getting very tired. Moonshine and one or two of the other boys ran out and took her bridle and helped her down from Robin; she could not manage the stretch from the stirrup to the ground. She said, "Bourneville, tell Moonshine to saddle up and come with me to Willstown. I'm going to have a cup of tea and some tucker, and then we'll start. You take all the boys back to Mr Harman. That okay?"
He said, "Yes, Missy."
It struck her that if she was tired he must be exhausted; he had been in the saddle continuously for twenty-four hours. She looked at the seamed black face and said, "Can you make it, Bourneville? Are you very tired?"
He grinned. "Me not tired, Missy. Go back to Missa Harman with the boys after tucker." He went away shouting, "Palmolive, Palmolive. You go longa kitchen, make tea and tucker for Missy. You go longa kitchen quick."
She sat down wearily upon the chair in the veranda, and in a very short time Palmolive appeared with a pot of tea and two fried eggs upon a steak that was almost uneatable. She ate the eggs and a corner of the steak and drank six huge cups of tea. She did not dare to change her clothes or examine her sores; once started on that sort of thing, she knew, she would never get going again. She finished eating and called out for Moonshine and went down into the yard. The black stockmen, saddling their own horses and making up the bundles for the packhorses in the rain, put her up into the saddle and she was off again for Willstown with Moonshine by her side.