The township of Boonara consisted of one main street, with irregular, irresponsible-looking houses dotted about, built anyhow. They had been put up at various times by many different sorts of men. Building operations commenced at one end and continued at intervals until a sort of street was formed. The first inhabitant had been a "keeper of the fence," and he camped there because it was convenient to his work. Gradually, in oddments, other men came to the place. It was a bachelor township until some enterprising man, bolder than the rest, and more saving, ventured to Sydney and returned with a wife. She was the only woman in the township for a long time, and was regarded with a certain amount of awe and wonder. The consensus of opinion was that she must have had a terribly bad time in Sydney, or nothing would have induced her to marry Jack and come to Boonara. The example set proved catching, and other members of the bachelor community took unto themselves partners. The township grew slowly, unlike the centres of big mining districts which spring up mushroom-like in a night and often die away as quickly.
Boonara gathered in many of the keepers of the fence, who had tired of the life and settled there on a mere pittance. It was not a prosperous community; there was little conversation, and a lot of grumbling. Each man regarded his neighbour with suspicion, not knowing who he was, except by name, nor whence he came. All around Boonara was an arid waste, except at certain seasons, few and far between, when rain came sweeping in a deluge over the parched earth, filling up the gaping cracks and crevices, hissing and swishing over the land, bringing life, in every drop a new birth. Then the plains woke up. Miles upon miles of dull-brown crumbling grassless spaces became green and refreshing. Strange sights followed these deluges. In a mysterious manner sheep appeared in thousands wandering across the plains, nibbling this wonderful and succulent food from which they had been so long debarred. Cattle came, mobs of horses, all branded, belonging to squatters miles away. Nobody seemed to own the land round Boonara. At least no member of the township had ever heard the name of an owner mentioned. They ran what cattle, horses and sheep they possessed anywhere on it. There were no enclosures, no square-mile paddocks. The only fence was the glittering wire running along the border.