who set up the Shearing Contractors' Association to control the prices. That's no good to me. He's made his money and now he wants to keep the cream for himself.’ ‘Well what is the price per hundred, Fred? I see in the paper the award rates set by the Contractors’ and the Labour and Employment Department are so much but I can't remember exactly. But they are pretty good too this year.’ ‘I'm not a member of the Association so I fix my own rates, see? I'll get the sheds at my price, see, no control, no rules. You cook and I shear with the gang and that way we'll soon hit the top.’ ‘What about insurance, wages tax, social security, and all those things?’ ‘That's my worry Martha, you leave those things to me.’ * * * So in 1952, after three years' shearing, another hopeful contractor entered the competitive ranks of this hurly burly industry. Certainly 1951 was the boom year for the wool industry, the like of which had never been seen before or since by mercantile firms, farmers, business houses, shearing contractors, shed hands — the lot. The Government ‘froze’ the farmers' cheques to protect the country from inflation, but for fellows like Fred it didn't mean a thing, and nobody thought of protecting him, not even from himself, although Martha did try. The anticipation of lucrative seasonal returns looked good. Equipment was easy to get, and sheds were not so hard to come by. Then the big talk hit the news. ‘Second shearing, Martha. Look at this, twice a year shearing the same sheep! We double our tally just like that. All the year round shearing, non stop. The biggest job will be to get a gang.’ Notwithstanding the competition for shearers, Freddy and Martha got a gang together and launched forth into industry, doing the rounds in a smart-looking newlypainted yellow truck of three tons capacity, equipped with two klaxon horns that were too large to fit under the bonnet, and were attached to the top of the cab where they could blare forth to announce the arrival and departure of the gang. With the pride of achievement, Martha was looking forward now to the prospect of her own home. After each season was over, they had been living in the tumbledown shack with big-hearted hospitable Uncle Jack and his wife, equally hospitable and kindly disposed. They did not appear to have very much, but somehow they all managed to survive. ‘We can't get a home yet,’ said Freddy. ‘We'll leave that till later. John Kiwara at Korongata has just bought a brand new car. Maybe next year we will get a house in Hastings. Now we can live in the shearers' quarters with one of our bosses, so let's get the car first.’ ‘But Freddy, we have the truck, we don't need the car.’ ‘You leave that to me,’ was Freddy's reply. But fame and fortune are not made that way, and destiny has a say in the future of man. On the highway after the Hawke's Bay Show at Tomoana in October just a few miles south of Hastings city, Martha and Freddy, passengers in a friend's carlate at night, met with an accident. Martha lost one eye, and Freddy was mangled badly, and had a broken leg. He became dangerously ill, but survived. It was back to Uncle Jack again and twelve months on a sickness benefit for the two of them, with uncompleted contracts, unpaid accounts, no funds in the bank, no insurance to cover the accident, financial embarrassment, ill health and little hope of recovery from a very depressing situation. Time, the greatest of healers, saw convalescence and patience produce full recovery for Freddy, but with his sudden cessation of activity, he reached twentytwo stone. He still had possession of the now somewhat dejected truck, still painted yellow in most places, but was still without the house needed more urgently than before, as there were no funds to acquire one. Uncle Jack was no longer able to extend hospitality, because he had passed beyond Te Reinga, and this made life a real hardship, but Freddy still wore his smile if nothing much else. Home now became the truck plus a tent they could use as a shelter wherever they could pitch it. The basic needs of man can be easily obtained anywhere in Aotearoa but in no place better than Te Awanga, for generations the source of the food supply for the descendants of Kahungunu living in the fertile valley of Here-