‘Gotcha,’ he murmured as he continued along the track as if unaware of the two boys. Billy Blue and Danny were heading for the caves on the side of the hill – a favourite hiding place for generations of boys. He’d let them settle in and think they were secure before he hauled them back home.

He drove past the almost invisible track that led to the caves and waterfall and continued on up the steep, winding slope to where he’d cleared a broad plot of land to build his house on the brow of the flat-topped hill. It wasn’t a big house, but he was proud of it. The walls were tightly packed tree trunks he’d taken from the bush, the chimney made from the black rocks that lay scattered across the hillside, the corrugated iron roof low over the windows that gave an unrivalled view across the bush canopy to the sweep of surrounding plains and distant hills.

The kitchen and two bedrooms led off from a large central sitting room, and although he didn’t have the luxury of an indoor bathroom, he could sit in the old tin tub outside, up to his neck in hot water from the copper boiler, and gaze at that fantastic view, safe in the knowledge he couldn’t be seen and wouldn’t be disturbed. After the noise and the horrors of the war it was his refuge, and he could think of nothing better than to share it with Rebecca and her son.

He parked the utility and climbed out, heading not for the front door but for the tall stone watchtower he’d built at the side of the house. He’d left Django in charge while he rushed into town, and although he trusted the Aboriginal elder to do his best, he also knew the man had a short attention span if left to his own devices for too long.

Django’s broad brown face split into a wide grin as Ben reached the high wooden platform. ‘All clear, boss,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Plenty storm coming in though. Reckon be here by tonight.’

‘Thanks, mate. Go and get some tucker while I’m here, but don’t be too long – I’ve got a couple of larrikins to round up and take home.’

‘Them boys up to no good again, eh?’ His amber eyes glinted with humour as he pulled the sweat-stained hat over his bushy hair. ‘Sarah gunna give that Billy Blue a whopping, I reckon, but it dun do no good. He wild, that boy. Wild as his hair is red.’ He was still shaking his head and chuckling as he headed down the ladder and went into the house in search of food.