Uncle Richard looked at his watch. ‘We’ll go on a bit further, have an early lunch and head straight back,’ he said. ‘No need to worry the lad’s mother.’

Maidment nodded and his party set out at a fast pace.

Danny turned the pony’s head back towards Maiden Creek.

Uncle Richard caught his reins. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going home,’ Danny said. ‘You heard Mr Maidment, it’s too dangerous to go on.’

‘Nonsense. I’m not going to let him spoil our adventure. We’ll go on a bit further.’

‘But what about the fire?’

Uncle Richard scowled. ‘With luck, we will miss it. I want to be at Aberfeldy by nightfall.’

Danny jerked his pony’s reins. ‘Aberfeldy? I don’t understand …’

All the good humour had drained from Uncle Richard’s face. He snatched up Danny’s reins and kicked his own horse into a trot, leaving Danny with no option but to cling on to his pony and follow.

The clanging of the fire bell echoed around the valley, drowning out the beat of the mine’s battery. Adelaide looked up from serving Mrs Jervis. She had only heard it once before, when a fire had last threatened Maiden’s Creek three years ago. It meant only one thing: every able-bodied man and boy was required, and the women too would be called on to defend their town and their homes.

‘The fire’s heading this way?’

Mrs Jervis nodded. ‘I heard Sergeant Maidment telling my husband he thought it would cut off the Aberfeldy Road by early afternoon.’

‘And with this wind it will come straight down the valley,’ Adelaide said. ‘Will we have to evacuate?’

Mrs Jervis shrugged. ‘I already have a few things packed and ready to go in case we need to go up to the mine.’

With the road north cut off and the difficulties of getting out by the Shady Creek Road to the south, the Maiden’s Creek Mine with its long tunnel was the only safe place in case of fire. Her thoughts flew to Caleb and Netty, incarcerated in the police cells. She had to get them out.

Adelaide shut and locked the door after the bank manager’s wife and hurried up the busy main street to the police station. In one corner of the crowded front office, Constable Prewitt was handing out sheets of paper. Constable O’Grady was behind the desk, fending off enquiries about the safety of the town.

Adelaide pushed her way to the front. ‘Where’s Sergeant Maidment?’

O’Grady looked up. ‘He’s down at the bank, meeting with the town council.’

‘I want to see Dr Hunt and Miss Redley,’ she demanded.

O’Grady scowled. ‘We’re busy, Mrs Greaves. Come back later.’

‘But—’ Her protest went unregarded as a man cut in with a query about blankets.