‘What do you mean no more tracks? They have five horses with them. It’s impossible to hide the tracks of five horses.’

Barraworn shook his head. ‘No more tracks, boss.’

McTavish swung from the saddle and looped his reins over a branch. Pulling the carbine from its bucket, he crossed to where Barraworn waited.

‘The ground here is stony and hard. They must have covered what little spoor they left. They’ve been following the back of this ridge up to now. Let’s go forward on foot for a bit and see if we can’t pick them up again.’

Barraworn shrugged and moved off with McTavish following. Every few paces the tracker squatted on his haunches and examined a piece of ground. But every time he would look up at McTavish and shake his head.

‘No more tracks, boss.’

McTavish shouldered the carbine and pointed back towards their own horses. ‘Let’s head back and scout the sides of the ridge. They can’t just vanish. There will be some sign of them somewhere.’

For three hours they tried every possible direction from the last trace of the spoor, but each time the search turned up nothing. McTavish was starting to feel a little of the dread that was evident on Barraworn’s face. It seemed four men and five horses had vanished from the face of the earth.

The sun was well into the west by the time he admitted defeat. ‘Okay, laddie. It would seem they have given us the slip.’ He looked up at the escarpment, now a looming shadow to the north, like the ramparts of some giant castle. ‘If they’ve gone up there, it will need more than the two of us to find them. Lead us back down to the creek. We’ll camp there tonight. Tomorrow we’ll head back to Bunyong Creek. My superiors can decide what to do about Mr Anderson and his band of thugs.’

‘Hellooo the house.’

Toby and Paddy were cleaning up after dinner when they heard the hail from the yard outside. Paddy shrank back against the wall, a look of terror on his face. Toby eyed the Lovell leaning beside the kitchen door. The firearm was loaded, but not primed. He decided that if someone meant them harm they would not yell from the yard and announce their presence.

Walking to the door, he carefully pulled it open and peered out into the darkness. Two horsemen sat their mounts just below the verandah rail.

‘Good evening, Toby,’ a familiar voice said. ‘Sorry to call so late.’

‘Mr Pelham?’

The more portly of the two figures lifted a hand in greeting. ‘Yes, Toby. George has escorted me over.’ The hand gestured towards the other rider and Toby recognised the bulky figure of George Grey.

‘Please, Mr Pelham, come in.’ Toby pushed the door wide and waited while the men dismounted and looped their reins over the verandah rail. ‘Paddy?’ He turned to his brother. ‘Boil the kettle. Some tea for our guests.’