Bob glowered at him and pushed back his sweat-stained hat. ‘I’m as strong and fit as any man here – and this is my property. I have a right to defend it.’ He gave a deep sigh and surveyed the smouldering barns and stock pens, the charred remains of the cookhouse and the tool sheds. ‘What’s left of it,’ he murmured.

‘At least you got the stock out in time,’ Ben replied. ‘And the homestead’s still standing. Where’s Mum?’

‘I sent her and your sisters off with the other women and kids to Morgan’s Reach. Didn’t want to have to worry about them as well as everything else.’ He looked back at Ben. ‘D’you reckon we’ll beat this bastard?’

Ben looked up at the pearl-grey sky beyond the palls of smoke and leaping flames and saw the ominous thunderheads of black cloud that were building up to the east. ‘If the wind changes and those clouds are carrying rain, then we’ll have a better chance of getting it under control more quickly,’ he replied.

‘And if they don’t?’

Ben eased the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders and gave a sigh. ‘Then we keep going for as long as it takes.’

Bob clamped his hand on Ben’s shoulder once more and nodded. ‘Reckon that boy might need a rest. I’ll take over the bowser.’

Ben watched his father stride away until his sturdy figure was swallowed up in the rolling smoke. The Freemans had worked Wilga for four generations – they had battled fire, flood and drought to make this place the success it was, and he was damned if he was going to let this bitch of a fire destroy his heritage.

He grasped the axe and was about to continue chopping down an ironbark when he heard a shout of warning from up the line.

The ancient she-oak towered above Charley and the young black jackaroo, its diadem of blazing leaves and branches showering sparks down on their heads as it slowly and majestically began to lean towards them. The two men froze.

Every man close by was shouting at them to run – yelling at them to get away – even rushing to try to drag them to safety.

Charley and the boy suddenly snapped out of their trance and took to their heels – tiny figures dwarfed by the giant tree trunk and spreading branches that were coming ever nearer.

But the impetus of the heavy crown increased the speed of the fall – the blazing branches catching Charley and the youth in mid-stride, pinning them to the ground. They began to scream and struggle as the flames voraciously started to feed.