The majority of Australian horse and cattle duffers of these times, were
carefree men, alive with devilry and the lust for excitement. But they
were not, except in isolated cases, bad men. Although they were hunted
far and wide, whenever the station men got on their tracks, they were
not looked upon as real bad men. Notorious desperadoes some of them were
when caught in a nasty corner, but many took the risks with a laugh and
braved all in the spirit of adventure.
Red's gang, with the possible exclusion of Blue, had always been bad.
They would kill, when they deemed it necessary.

It was the seventh year. And the big rains had come.

With the valley mothering a flood of waters, they waited in the cleft of
the rocks, grimly content. They had hoped for this, expected it, worked
for it. Seven dry seasons and then big rains spreading inland from the coast, rains that would flood the thousands of creeks of the great old western watershed to swamp the dry riversand roll on southwest towards the arid lands hundreds of miles away.
They started off before the big rains had finished. before the far and scattered stations began mustering, when the lands became dry.
Thus, following rains would blot out their tracks, as they sped through
wild bush, bearing towards the southwest away from the settled country.
Wonerful bushmen these, travelling through trackless land, to a familiar
objective, a thousand miles away.
But Red could not get rid of the black bull. They cut him out, and left him in the valley. But he followed after the mob, lowing plaintively. He
wanted to lead them back to their own country, the country where they were born. Nothing they tried could stop him. He would catch them up at night and surge in among the mob, nearly causing a stampede, as he tried
to lead them back.
Red was forced to take him along. forced to keep an eye on him, with a
discontented mob at his heels again and again, he wheeled and tried to
force his way back through the wings. Red was riding in the lead, Blue and Nosey, Long Jim and the Scowler out on the wings, with Brander and Cuthroat bringing up the rear, urging too, the packhorses with there
spare stores and tucker.
They kept the big mob moving to pass quickly through the station country
Far ahead of them lay the Birdsville Track. Red wanted to cut this track
well to the north. Then they would be in the badlands long before the big mobs from the Gulf country came lowing down the track.
They travelled between the rivers some hundreds of miles before they got
to the territory border. Here the rivers turned definately south. They
swam river after river. seldom losing a beast, still heading southwest to cut the border as soon as possible.