NIGHTS WERE SPECIAL. At dusk, they often gathered around the campfire to tell stories and to have a laugh. It was an age-old tradition in the bush, whenever stockmen and rangers roamed the great southland, a tradition that had been carried forward with the march of time.
One evening, as the embers of the fire were dying, and under a canopy of stars, Duck opened up.
The men and Emily stopped to listen. The silence pervaded all around; only his voice, faltering in the beginning, could be heard.
‘I’d been in hiding for a week before I was captured. I was so close to formulating a plan of escape when a boy found me. A mob quickly formed and I was beaten to within an inch of my life. It was a crazy mob, bloodthirsty. There was a lust for revenge for crimes I allegedly did. Then, someone whac
