“First billabong was runnin’ hard,” said the man, “and the second one was worse. I started after that heavy shower, and when word came in that the river was up and risin’ fast, I came along the bank o’ the river, an’ had to swim the billabongs.”
“Couldn’t they have turned back?” said Jack Ever.
“No, the boss was out in his sulky,” answered the man, “an’ he scoured right along the edge o’ the first billabong for miles. The tracks turned into the water, but it was too deep for him to ford it, so they couldn’t have got back. I come along by the river bank where the ground’s a few foot higher than the plains. An’ the river was just near sloppin’ over. You couldn’t get back that way now.”
“Dolly never reckoned on the higher ground along the bank,” said Steve, “and he’d turned away from the river, thinking the ground must rise that way, or that he could round the end of the billabong. And now they’re cut off on the high ground somewhere, and the water rising.”
He turned, and “I’ll bring the horses up,” he shouted, as he ran across the yard.
The men leaped for their clothes, and dragged out oilskin coats and waterproofs, and were ready when Steve splashed back, driving the horses before him.
“I’ve been thinkin’, Steve,” said Scottie, “the only thing for’t is tae mak the township an’ the bridge an’ ride up the ither bank till we can get a crossin’, an’ get a boat if the water’s too deep for the horses.”
“That means the Toss-Up Track,” said Steve, quickly. “We all know what that is, but there’s some of us should win through it.”
Well the men knew what the Toss-Up meant, in that weather, and at night. It was the “Toss-Up” Track, because someone had once said it was a toss up whether a man came through or broke his neck riding it. It was rough and risky in ordinary weather and by day. None of them had tried it under conditions like the present. But there was no dispute or discussion over it now—it was the quickest way, and speed counted for everything. Some might come down, but, as Steve said, some would surely come through and be able to attempt a rescue.
Ten minutes after Steve brought the horses in the men were mounted and splattering out of the yard, and heading for the hills. Steve and Scottie led the way, and set the pace at a stout canter for the first mile. The track here was rough, but fairly good—rock, stones, and boulders certainly, but the horses were used to that and made nothing of it.