Jack, had selected an old abandoned four gallon fuel drum, in
which he would place anything he considered the lads would be
interested in. The Barracks, proved to be a hodgepodge of all
manner of things, both in paper form, and the usual discarded
junk.
The exulted occassional shout, and high octave shrills coming
from the lads were now diminishing, as the pattern of finds had
levelled out, to include similar things for both of them, but
Chooka had found an old pannikin and utensils, which were marked
made in the U.S.A.
After two hours of solid searching, the light pattern changed to
signal the Sun's departure for the day. So they packed away the
detectors, and followed Jack back to the campsite.
After all the chores were done, and the stock fed and hobbled,
the fire was glowing, and supper sizzling, all relaxed back as
the days short search was revealed.
There were twenty different coins, which were from a penny to
a one dollar, all were American, one belt buckle, several old
brass buttons, the pannikin and utensils, and the Coke bottle.
Both men swore they would find more tomorrow, but were calmly
told, that they would be heading off tomorrow for Hell's Gate
up on the South Australian / New South Wales border.
The lads resigned themselves to do just that, as sometime in the future they could return here.

Relaxing back after the food, tea and coffee in hand, all of
them settled under the stars and listened to old Lofty's tale
about the dangers to be met in this strange land.
Jack just nodded, when he mentioned of how old mother earth
would talk to you at night if you listened carefully.
For every strange creak, or earth movement preceded the way
the daylight would find the mornings.
As a matter of fact, she was talking to them now!
He could vouch for that, by claiming his age was undeniable
proof that if you listened, you would live longer.
He then told a story, of three who did'nt listen.

The tale was about "The Big Three"!
The Big Three lifted a mob of three hundred horses from near Longreach in Central Queensland, and came down the Cooper, a
proper wild fella country then. But at the junction where the
Barcoo joins the Cooper, they nearly lost the mob, and their
lives, when the hostile natives surrounded them.
They were all around them, the timber rang with their yells.
Then a chance in a million saved the Big Three. An eclipse of the sun.
So the Big Three pushed onwards throughout the night, as the natives retreated from this strange happening. They lived in the saddle. Tireless men these, alert grim faced, the stuff that Buccaneers were made of.
They traveled three hundred miles as the crow flies, left the Cooper, traveled south and crossed the Wilson, then across the
border into New South Wales, dodging Tibooburra, Mount Poole, and Milparinka, and arrived at Cobham lake to see the first white men in six hundred miles.
They then rode up to the annual three day horse races at rough
old German Georges shanty, where they found a ready market for fifty horses at five pound each. They cheated at cards, and all
were loathe to accuse them. When the last day of the races came
they entered three of the thoroughbreds they'd stolen and won a fortune.
The last night of their stay at German Georges shanty, a later
visitor accused Big Jim of cheating, he was quickly beaten by
Big Harry. After they had returned to their camp, Big Jim was
standing by the fire, when a shot rang out, and he fell dead
shot in the head. Not wanting to be found with a dead body,
both Big Harry and Big Ned burnt his body and buried the ashes.
They decided to head for Burra in South Australia, which was
two hundred miles across the border over land where no man did
travel. Planning to sell the rest of the horses there, to the local copper miners. Both men sneered at the warnings given of
this most waterless waste, as they considered their horses well conditioned for the trip.
But unknown to Big Harry, he rode with certain death, that dreaded Typhoid germ was inside him.
The gift from a shanty whore.
He began to sway in the saddle, and to babble at the sun.
He went down with the fever and died.
Greedily, Big Ned was the owner of all, the horses and the large bulging sack, containing all those Sovereigns, he quickly pushed
Big Jim into a gully, and rode on into a waste of mirage and old saltbush. Thus far the story is known. But no one knows if ever
he got through. Lofty reckons, he is a another entry upon mother
earths extended, and multi numbered pages, of those who never
listen!
The only sound now, was the expelling, of two lads wonderment of
this old storytellers tale. They decided to listen to what the
land says in the future. Lofty, gently tapped his pipe clean, and rose to retire, but as he did, Jack gave him a nod of one
who had heard the story before, and agreed with the logic.
Jack, then quitely told the lads, he had a welcome surprise for
them in the morning before breakfast, just another page in their
learning of survival out here.