Max had always possessed an inner compass and knew exactly where to find east – but as the sky darkened and they reached scrubland where the surrounding trees grew more sparsely, the stars would become visible. ‘Look up, Sal,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Orion and Venus will always guide you.’

‘I don’t need the stars when I have you beside me,’ she said, giving the sky a scant glance. ‘Max, I really do think we ought to stop. I’m worried about you.’

‘Later,’ he replied, his breath hissing as Betsy suddenly swerved from some imaginary danger in the bushes and danced on her toes. He held tightly to the mare’s halter, soothing her with his voice as he fought to quell the pain. Betsy had sensed there was something wrong with the man on her back, and that had spooked her.

‘You’re frightening me, Max.’ Sal put out her hand and touched his arm. ‘Please let’s stop. We’ve come a long way, and I can’t smell the fire any more. You need to rest.’

‘Soon. I promise,’ he muttered. He glanced up at the sky, but Orion was just a blur, the bright Venus and Sirius fading in and out of focus – he was running out of time.

The mare was still skittish, her ears flicking back and forth as she shied from every noise and shadow, but Max used the last of his rapidly ebbing strength to guide her on through the trees and around the vast termite mounds. It was dark now, their only light coming from the stars and the quarter moon, but the trees were thinning, and soon, very soon he would be able to rest.

Sal seemed to realise he didn’t need her to fuss or chatter, and she rode beside him in fretful silence until they finally emerged from the trees and took stock of where they were.

‘I recognise that fancy windmill,’ she said. ‘John Blake had it brought up all the way from Melbourne just before the war. We must be on Killigarth land.’

Max felt an overwhelming sense of relief that his darling Sal would now be safe. But his head felt as if it had been cleaved by an axe, the thudding pain driving into his neck and spine like a sledgehammer. ‘The homestead isn’t far,’ he managed as he pointed towards a low rise several hundred yards away. ‘Get help.’

‘I’m not leaving you,’ she replied.

Max closed his eyes and curled into the agony as sweet oblivion finally claimed him. He felt nothing as he slithered from the mare’s back and crumpled to the ground.

Sal threw herself to her knees beside him, the satchel and water bottle flying from her hands as she frantically searched for a pulse. It was thready and uneven, his skin was cold and clammy and the bandage round his head was soaked with his blood.