He heard the crack of a stock whip and the men yelling, and guessed one of the herd must have broken away into the thick undergrowth. It was barely dawn and the air was crisp, the valley thick with mist from the river, and he knew sounds could be deceiving but he judged them to be just on the crest of the hill. The boss and the men were driving the mob to the better areas of feed further up the mountain, and Chen Mu had risen earlier than usual to watch them go. It had been a dry summer, and though Walpinya Station lay deep in a rich valley surrounded on three sides by mountains, with a river forming the fourth boundary, still the grasses had gone to seed early and until the rains came no growth could be expected. Only the healthiest cows and calves were making the journey – those too old or about to calve would stay in the valley. Matthew Dawson and his men would be back in a couple of weeks, but the cattle would stay in the high country until the end of autumn. The sound of barking dogs weakened.
