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and looks at Johnny. ‘The world is changing. Have you seen one of these flying machines?’
    â€˜Yes. There is a field near where I live . . . where you have been living. They take off and land there. I went over to have a look at them.’
    â€˜Me too. I made a point of going to see them. I’ll tell you this. Being able to fly isn’t the most amazing thing about them. Rather, it’s the speed at which they can cross the countryside—almost as fast as you can turn your head to follow them. If one flies overhead when you start to puff on that cigarette, it will be almost gone from your view by the time you blow the smoke out of your mouth. That’s what’s remarkable about them. And who knows what they will do in a war? See where troops are hidden? Drop bombs?’
    Johnny flinches involuntarily. He hasn’t considered this at all. But it makes sense.
    Bert pushes his hat back on his head and wipes his brow. The sun is starting to climb and the heat is building, even while the storm clouds are getting closer. ‘The British army have experimented with these flying machines in South Africa. Seeing how accurate they can be and how much damage they can do.’
    â€˜And how were they?’ Johnny asks quietly.
    â€˜Very effective. The bombs killed more people than shells fired from cannon. The army was very pleased with the experiment.’
    â€˜Who was killed?’
    â€˜Some villagers that the British could see no need for.’
    â€˜How do you know all this?’ Johnny asks again.
    â€˜That’s one of the good things about being a notorious gangster. The nicest people are more than happy to rub shoulders with you. If you can help them. A judge just back from London told me about the experiments at dinner at the archbishop’s one night. He had seen the reporthimself. The English want us to start producing these flying machines. The judge thinks it might be a good idea. He wanted me to talk to a few people I know in the carriage-building business.’
    The day continues to get hotter, and Bert pulls off his coat and undoes the buttons on his vest. Johnny takes off his own coat and straps it to the back of his saddle.
    â€˜I plan on buying some more appropriate clothes in Euroa,’ says Bert. ‘City clothes are only good for one thing.’
    â€˜What’s that?’
    â€˜The city.’
    They both laugh. The road is rockier now and the horses’ hooves ring out loudly through the scrub.
    â€˜I think it’s time to drop the stirrups down,’ Johnny says.
    The men steer the horses into a glade by the side of the road. Johnny stretches his back before he jumps down out of the saddle. Bert riffles through his saddlebag and pulls out a loaf of bread.
    â€˜Lunchtime,’ he says.
    Johnny comes up with a block of cheese. The men stand under a ghost gum while they eat, then take a few careful steps across the open ground and return to the horses. If there are any snakes about, they will attack only if threatened. Johnny and Bert know enough to stay out of their way by avoiding the long grass where the snakes like to hide. Johnny has sat by the side of a friend as he lay dying from snakebite almost this far away from a town. Seeing it once is enough.
    â€˜You’ve got a bad back?’ Bert observes.
    â€˜Yeah, I have.’
    â€˜Getting better?’
    â€˜No, this is it, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜How did it happen?’
    Johnny bends down stiffly to check that his horse’s shins are okay. He says nothing until he has felt all four legs. Then he straightens, making sure his face doesn’t register the pain. ‘Funny thing. We had a really gentle mare on the farm. And a quiet stallion. We got her to foal. The foal turned out to be the opposite of its mother and father. Threw me when I wasn’t expecting it and trampled me after I had gone down. A nastier horse I have never met. We sold it on as