Up the Country: A Saga of Pioneering Days

It was New Year's Day up the country, a beautiful New Year's Day with not a cloud in the sky. Signs of activity could be seen on Little Plain very early. About three miles from Gowandale homestead, it was one of those round, timberless plateaus that distinguish the region, with a crystal stream singing between perfumed shrubs all in bloom and a carpet of flowers girth-high among the tussocks.

For the past few days, the curious eagles, kookaburras and magpies had watched a marquee of bushes being erected, and had noted other signs of human invasion. The kangaroos and wild turkeys had retreated from the spot, and the plovers expressed their indignation volubly. Some of the flowers were trampled, and a bushman would have discerned quite a track, circular, for about two miles. Aha! a virgin racecourse, to be sure! In full view of a little knoll near the marquee where blackbutts and snow gums afforded shade, a finishing post had been erected.