Chapter Thirty-FourSeveral of the miners grabbed tents, carts, and carriages, and hauled them up Baker’s Hill, overlooking the Eureka Flat with a clear view across at the government camp. A whisper ran around the crowd that the hilltop miners would build a fortress for anyone willing to make a stand.
‘Let’s get our carriage!’ said Patrick. ‘It’s good and solid.’
‘It’s made mainly of painted wicker,’ Matilda pointed out.
‘We’ll turn it on its side!’ he said.
‘The base is made of wood.’
Patrick didn’t hear her—he was already on his way back to our tent. We trailed after him, trying and failing to remain rationally detached. A part of me said I should stop him at once. It was a very small part. I’d been itching for a fight all my life, and this was a battle worth fighting, at last. All a
