It was time for the evening meal. McNab built a fire in the ashes of one of the previous fires, and fetched water from the spring, while Brinklow went off to take care of the horses. Across the road, partly screened by a fringe of trees and bushes, lay an oval grassy opening like a natural paddock. Brinklow led the horses in here, and picketed them separately with ropes and stakes, that they might not stray around during the night, and obliterate tracks that were important to his case. The spring was at the farther edge of the grass.
Meanwhile Julia was beating up biscuit dough in an enamelled basin. McNab watched her deft movements with fascinated eyes. She had thin, strong hands, tanned by the weather, somewhat hardened by work, but beautifully shaped. With every moment he was falling d
