‘Ah, you’re awake!’

The voice came from somewhere to his left. It took a long time before the sparks faded and Paddy was able to pick out the owner of the voice. A man he had never seen before sat in a camp chair beside the bed, a blanket draped around his shoulders. He wore a pair of wire-framed spectacles that had been knocked crooked while he slept.

Paddy opened his mouth to speak, to ask, ‘Who are you?’, but the fire pooled into the middle of his head. He tried to fight through it, drew a breath and tensed his vocal chords, but the intensity forced him to close his mouth and eyes. Slowly, the agony withered to a dull ache until finally he was able to open his eyes again.

The man stood over him. He straightened the spectacles on his nose and squinted through bloodshot eyes.

‘It was a close run thing, my boy. A few times there I thought I’d lost you.’

Paddy’s eyes flicked about the tent, like a caged animal searching for a way out. He felt the panic rising again and tried to sit up, but the man pushed him gently back onto the bed.

‘You’re in no danger, Patrick. I’m Doctor Collier. Your brother Toby brought you to me the day before yesterday. You’ve had a severe blow to the head.’

Toby? Toby brought me here?

Paddy relaxed a little. He settled back onto the pillow and watched as the doctor examined his head then lifted the bedclothes to listen to his heart with a tube-like device.

‘How are you feeling, Patrick?’

Paddy opened his mouth to respond and the glowing embers in his head flared into a raging inferno once again. The sheer intensity of the pain inside his head made him writhe in agony.

‘What’s wrong? What is it?’ The doctor placed a calming hand on Paddy’s shoulder. Eventually, the pain subsided and he stilled his wild thrashing.

‘Can you tell me what’s wrong?’ the doctor asked, and Paddy shook his head. Keeping his mouth tightly shut was the only thing that would stop the pain from coming.

That evening Toby rode into Bunyong Creek and found Paddy sitting up in bed in the doctor’s tent, slowly sipping at a bowl of broth, his head wrapped in a clean bandage. He wore a borrowed nightshirt and looked up and smiled as Toby stooped under the fly.

‘Look at you, eating in bed like a lord,’ Toby said. ‘What a life.’

Paddy offered a weak grin and continued slurping from the spoon.

‘What’s the matter, Pad? Cat got your tongue?’

The smile slipped from Paddy’s face. He shrugged and kept on eating.

Doctor Collier came and stood beside Toby. ‘I’m very pleased with his progress. You can take him home in the morning.’