With a tin cup of steaming tea in my hands, eucalyptus in the air and a brightening morning, some of my strength slowly returned to me.
“Well, gentlemen. What is next?” I asked rather flatly. Perhaps it reflects poorly on me, but the conversation that I had overheard that morning had began to stir a great anger in me, that somehow strengthened my resolve.
The two Scotsmen considered each other.
“We shall follow the directions of our old Uncle to where the bunyip lay at Fiery Creek.” Cameron answered with a shrug.
“And where is our fine old Uncle?” I asked, suddenly aware that he was not about the camp. “Don’t tell me the old fellow has crept away in the night?”
My other three companions merely gave a knowing smile.
“He’s still around, Mr. Dubrelle.” Andrew answered brightly.
“Where?
