The weight on their backs, and the oppressive heat, meant that we walked beside them. Fulton said that we’d be lucky to do twenty miles a day. During the first hour of our exodus we passed through tall grass over terrain that was flat, and it wasn’t very arduous. When the grass gave way to trees it was necessary to watch the horses carefully. Several of them attempted to divest themselves of their loads by squeezing between two trees, in order to dislodge the protruding weights. One of the horses succeeded, and time was lost as it was reloaded and disciplined into walking on. With surprising suddenness we found ourselves in dense scrub — a species of low-growing and prickly wattle — and the good sense in wearing protective clothing became clear. The Nackeroos seemed to know where they were going, which was just as well, because if someone had spun me around I’d have had no idea what direction I was facing. Around midday we came to the first of many streams we’d have to cross.
