They started out at four o'clock with the information that Gaynor's
Station was a collection of weather-board huts, a homestead put together
by five lads from England who were trying to make a fortune each. They
had not yet made a living between them. Loose End was owned by an
elderly squatter with many children. Five big gums, which could be seen
for miles, stood sentinel over the homestead on a rising knoll of
ground.
"But if yous ain't lucky, don't hit up Loose End. Old Twist has lots o'
luck, but it's mostly bad luck. A kid every year, an' eether a bush fire
or a flood or something to make up for it. His eldest is going on for
ten, I think--an' how's he to pay for labour to clear his land?"
Neither of them knew, but they decided to make for Loose End and see
what was going on under the five gums.
That day was the strangest experience to them both. Louis had tramped
before in the cooler New Zealand summer; Marcella had walked miles on
Lashnagar. But this walking through the dry, sun-scorched scrub, on
which their feet slipped and slid was an experience quite unique. The
heat rose from the ground to meet that blazing down from the sky of
Prussian blue. At eight o'clock they were both tired, but Marcella, who
plodded on, calm and unworried, was not nearly so tired as Louis who
made himself hot and dissipated much energy in wondering when they would
get there--wherever "there" might be.
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