They reached the shed and rummaged around for a few minutes before they found a pair of boards. Paddy used some nails to hammer them together, then they carried their makeshift cross back up the ridge. They had forgotten to bring a shovel to dig a hole and the ground was far too hard to dig by hand so they collected more lumps of quartz and built a cairn of stones to support their creation. When they had finished they stood shoulder to shoulder at the foot of the grave to admire their hard work. The cross was a little lopsided and the arms weren’t quite square, but it was better than nothing. Paddy decided that their parents’ final resting place now looked like a proper grave. The late afternoon sun cast a shadow that extended across the hillside.

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll get a proper headstone, Pad. I promise. Just as soon as we sell the cattle.’

They turned back towards the homestead. ‘C’mon,’ Toby said. ‘I’ll let you cook me dinner.’ He punched Paddy in the arm and ran on ahead.

For a moment their grief and sorrow were forgotten. They were two boys again, looking for fun. Paddy let Toby get a few paces ahead then picked up a lump of dried manure that he hurled after him, hitting him between the shoulder blades.

‘Good shot,’ Toby yelled, and began searching the ground for ammunition of his own.

Paddy didn’t want to jar his head by breaking into a run. Instead, he dodged Toby’s missile with a short sidestep, and would have yelled, ‘Hah, you missed me.’ But he didn’t want to awaken the fire.

There was only light traffic as Henry Pelham turned into Collins Street, but even that had lifted a pall of dust into the air. He had been on the road for three days and nights. There was a hotel at the far end of the street that he always used when in Melbourne, but that would have to wait. The object of his journey was much closer. He waited for a laden dray to pass and guided his horse to the far side of the street, to a two-storey wooden structure with bars behind the window. A sign above the verandah proclaimed it to be The Colonial and Providence Bank of Victoria.

He reined in by the hitching rail, tied his horse and patted a little of the dust off his clothing before going inside.

A clerk sat on the far side of an expansive counter. He looked up as the bell over the door rang and immediately leaped to his feet.

‘Mr Pelham, sir!’

The clerk hurried to the little trapdoor that closed off the counter and flung it open. Before Pelham had taken three steps he was at his side.

‘Please, let me take your coat, sir. I had no idea you were calling on us today. It looks as if you’ve had a long journey. Can I offer you some refreshment?’