The end of it was that the buckjumper got home, not me.

I was laid up in hospital for close on two months, with a broken leg and complications.
The complications were that old spear wound, which inflamed, and they found that a splinter from the jagged tip had been left in.
Blood-poisoning was the next thing; and when I came out of that hospital I was more like the used up bit of soap you'll see by the COOLIBAH* outside a shepherd's hut on ration-bringing day, than anything else I can think of.
[*Coolibah--a basin made from the scooped out excrescence of a tree.] As soon as I could sit a horse again I went to work at Moongarr.

I had found things there at a pretty pass.

Not a drop of rain had fallen up to now on the station for nearly nine months.

YOU know what that means on the top of two dry seasons.