Chapter I.



Starting the Selection.


It's twenty years ago now since we settled on the Creek. Twenty years!
I remember well the day we came from Stanthorpe, on Jerome's dray--eight
of us, and all the things--beds, tubs, a bucket, the two cedar chairs with
the pine bottoms and backs that Dad put in them, some pint-pots and old
Crib. It was a scorching hot day, too--talk about thirst! At every creek
we came to we drank till it stopped running.

Dad did n't travel up with us: he had gone some months before, to put up
the house and dig the waterhole. It was a slabbed house, with shingled
roof, and space enough for two rooms; but the partition was n't up. The
floor was earth; but Dad had a mixture of sand and fresh cow-dung with
which he used to keep it level. About once every month he would put it
on; and everyone had to keep outside that day till it was dry. There were
no locks on the doors: pegs were put in to keep them fast at night; and
the slabs were not very close together, for we could easily see through
them anybody coming on horseback. Joe and I used to play at counting the
stars through the cracks in the roof.

The day after we arrived Dad took Mother and us out to see the paddock and
the flat on the other side of the gully that he was going to clear for