Nic turned and looked at him inquiringly.
“Camp, Nic,” he said. “Don’t you see that they’ve lit a fire?”
“Oh!” cried the boy, raising himself up. “I thought it was mist.”
“No, Nic, smoke. That’s the first thing we do out here when we halt for the night: light a fire and put on the billy.”
Nic gave another inquiring look, and his father smiled.
“You’ll soon learn all our colonial terms, boy,” he said. “A billy is a large cross-handled saucepan to boil water in and make our tea. I’ll show you how that is done—when we get there.”
“I know how to make tea,” said Nic.
“Yes, but not our way.”
Nic looked wonderingly at his father.
“You are on the other side of the world now,” said the doctor. “Now then, what do you say to a trot for the rest of the way?”