Toby walked with his father to the homestead and they climbed the steps onto the verandah. The riders were at the slip rails, about three hundred paces off. As they watched, one of the men dismounted, walked to the rails and pushed them open.

‘They don’t look like diggers to me.’ Ellen came out of the kitchen and stood beside her husband. She wiped her hands on her apron and Toby noticed she had tidied her hair and now wore a dark-blue bonnet. ‘I can’t see a pick or shovel anywhere on those horses.’

Paddy pushed his way in next to Toby, working his elbows to make room. ‘Ma’s right,’ he said. ‘Those miners that called in last month had two packhorses loaded with stuff.’

Squinting against the afternoon glare, Toby studied the horsemen. The two leading the little procession sat straight-backed, heels low in the stirrups in the English fashion, but the three trailing behind sat their mounts in a loose, undisciplined manner. Even at that distance his sharp eyes could pick out broad brows and deep-set eyes.

‘I reckon the last three are Aborigines.’

‘They could be native police,’ Paddy said excitedly. ‘Maybe they’ve been out chasing bushrangers.’

Toby elbowed his brother in the ribs. ‘Don’t be daft, Pad. They’d be in uniform if they were police. These blokes are in little more than rags.’

The men urged their horses through into the house paddock and Toby expected to see the dismounted man push the slip rails closed again, but he simply swung up onto his horse and followed the others towards the homestead, leaving them wide open. There was a herd of two hundred and fifty head in the paddock, waiting to be driven to the butchers’ yards at the diggings. These visitors would cop hell when they arrived at the homestead.

Beside him, his father straightened, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

‘Toby!’ His voice came as a low growl.

‘Yes, Pa?’

‘Fetch the Lovell for me, boyo.’

Paddy gave a little chuckle at the thought of the drama as their father prepared to confront the men. Toby, on the other hand, felt uneasy. Sean O’Rourke was an emancipated convict and had survived the horrendous conditions of a prison hulk, had been worked to the point of exhaustion on a chain gang and still bore the scars of the punishment lash. There wasn’t much in the world that frightened him, and yet Toby thought there had been a hint of fear in his voice.