Up the Country: A Saga of Pioneering Days

Every evening, rain or shine for the last fortnight, Mrs Mazere had made her way to the ridge at the back of the homestead and gazed across the river. A little to the right of the cottage that had recently housed the family rescued by the blacks, there stood the hut of Piper, a shiftless settler whose wife who had given birth to seven children in about six years. The last two births had almost cost the unfortunate creature her life, and her situation was often discussed by the married women when husbands and maidens were out of hearing, with indignant threats of just what they would like to do with Piper.

A month or two hack, Mrs Piper had pilgrimaged to Mrs Mazere and had implored her to assist her in her approaching travail. Mrs Mazere had readily given her promise to do so, and had instructed Piper that should his wife's time come without giving him a chance to get to Three Rivers, he was to signal, on any evening up until nine o'clock--at which hour the good lady and her daughters normally went to bed--from the point across the river, whereupon she would immediately set out.