Explore "The Last Lemurian: A Westralian Romance" by G. Firth Scott on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
IT was a month after my arrival at the Hatter's selection--Wonga, as he called it--when one evening, just as we were having a last smoke before turning in, we heard a horse trot up to the hut, and a voice calling out a question whether there was any one inside.
We went to the door, and in the dim light could see a man getting off his horse. He came up to us and we at once recognised one of the two men who had followed us from Albany.