e to make to the farm where the sorrel was at grass with a
lot of other diggers' horses. If I could get a saddle and catch the
old horse I could put many a mile between me and them before sundown.
I stood still when I reached the top of the bluff, partly to get breath
and partly to take a last look at old Turon.

Below lay the goldfield clearly marked out by hundreds of camp-fires
that were still red and showed bright in the darkened sky. The course
of the river was marked by them, in and out, as most of the shallow
diggings had followed the river flats. Far back the fires glowed against
the black forest, and just before the moon fell I could catch the shine
of the water in the deeper reaches of the river.

It was the very picture of what I'd read about an army in camp--lines
of tents and a crowd of men all spread out over a bit of land hardly
big enough for a flock of sheep. Now and then a dog would bark--now
a revolver would go off. It was never quiet on Turon diggings, day or
night.

Well, there they all were, tents and diggers, claims and windlasses,
pumps and water-wheels. I had been happy enough there, God knows; and
perhaps I was looking at it all for the last time. As I turned and made
down the hill into the black forest that spread below me like the sea,
I felt as if I was leaving everything that was any good in life behind
with the Turon lights, and being hunted once more, in spite of myself,
into a desert of darkness and despair.

Chapter 31

I got to Bates's paddocks about daylight, and went straight up to the
hut where the man lived that looked after it. Most of the diggers that
cared about their horses paid for their grass in farmers' and squatters'
paddocks, though the price was pretty high. Old Bates, who had a bit
of a good grassed flat, made a pretty fair thing out of it by taking in
horses at half-a-crown a week apiece. As luck would have it, the man in
charge knew me; he'd seen me out with the Yankees one day, and saw I
was a friend with them, and when I said I'd come for Bill's sorrel he
thought it likely enough, and got out the saddle and bridle. I tipped
him well, and went off, telling him I was going to Wattle Flat to look
at a quartz-crushing plant that was for sale. I accounted for coming up
so early by saying I'd lost my road, and that I wanted to get to Wattle
Flat sharp, as another chap wished to buy the plant. I cut across the
range, kept the sun on my right hand, and pushed