He was the finest and most fearless bush rider in the district, and could track like a black fellow.

If he left a strange camp at sundown, and rode about the bush all night, he could at any time go back straight across country to his starting point, or to any place he had visited during his wanderings.

Such bushmanship is a gift, and not to be learnt.

If once he saw a horse, he would know it again for the rest of his life--fat or lean, sick or well.

Which is also a gift.
In appearance he was a tall, lanky, large-handed, slab-sided cornstalk, about thirty-five years of age, with a huge red beard that nearly covered his face, and a brick-dust complexion variegated with large freckles.