A path led through a clump of pines, so thick that a man might ride round it and never dream there was anything but more pines inside.

A clear place had been made in the sandhill, and a snug crib enough rigged with saplings and a few sheets of bark.

It was neat and tidy, like everything he had to do with.

'I was at sea when I was young,' he once said to Jim, when he was a bit 'on', 'and a man learns to be neat there.' There was a big chimney outside, and a lot of leaves and rushes out of a swamp which he had made Warrigal gather.
'Put your blankets down there, boys, and turn in.

You'll see how the land lies in the morning.' We didn't want asking twice, Jim's eyes were nigh shut as it was.