Paddy dropped to the floor and crawled under the table as the stranger stepped into the kitchen. The man let Toby go, shoving him towards the far wall.

‘Sit!’

Toby lowered himself onto a kitchen chair and watched through tear-filled eyes as the man opened the door to his parents’ bedroom and glanced inside. He then went to the back door and did the same with the boys’ little lean-to room. Satisfied there was no one else in the house he moved to the stove where the remainder of the stew Ellen had prepared for lunch still simmered away. He ladled out a huge helping into a bowl, came back to the table, pushed the hind quarter of lamb aside and sat down, then shovelled stew into his mouth as fast as he could manage.

One of the Aborigines came to the doorway. ‘No more people here, Warrigal.’

The man nodded and droplets of stew flew from his tangled beard. He pointed at the pot on the stove. ‘Take it to the others, Chilbi. Eat while you can. The traps may not be far behind us.’

Without a glance at Toby or Paddy, the Aborigine went to the stove, picked up the pot and hurried back out into the yard.

The stranger emptied the bowl in moments and pushed it into the middle of the table. He stood and went to the kitchen cupboards where he rummaged around and found a flour bag that he began filling, tossing in bags of sugar and tea, a large tin of golden syrup and a loaf of bread. Then he went into their parents’ bedroom and Toby could hear him pulling open drawers and cupboards. He came back into the kitchen and pointed the revolver at Toby.

‘Where does Daddy hide his money?’

Toby knew his father had at least twenty pounds in a rawhide wallet hidden under the chest of drawers in the room. Beyond his grief and terror he felt a little spark of defiance flare. This man was not going to take everything from him. ‘There isn’t any.’ His voice cracked and didn’t sound as convincing as he’d hoped.

‘Don’t lie to me, boy.’ The revolver barrel almost touched Toby’s nose.

‘We—we don’t have any money. Not until we sell the cattle in the yard.’

‘Is that so?’ He lowered the revolver and shoved the table aside. Paddy tried to squirm away, but the stranger took a fistful of hair and yanked the boy to his feet. Paddy was a big lad for fifteen, but the stranger had no trouble holding him at full-stretch.

Paddy let out a squeal of terror and closed his eyes. ‘Please, Toby! Make him stop.’

Toby stood and the man whirled, dragging Paddy by the hair like a child’s doll.

‘Sit!’ he roared.

Toby shrank back onto the chair.

The man twisted Paddy around so he could look into the boy’s face.

‘Open your eyes, boy.’