woodheaps

The camp was a mere collection of breakwinds made of bark and branches, more like badly-stacked woodheaps than anything else, and the children of the soil lay basking in the sun, among the dogs and filth and refuse of the camp, or crouched over small fires as if it were bitter cold.

The Moving Finger A Trotting Christmas Eve at Warwingie Lost! The Loss of the "Vanity" Dick Stanesby's Hutkeeper The Yanyilla Steeplechase A Digger's Christmas Mary Gaunt

Joe could build bigger woodheaps with less wood than any black or white tramp or loafer round there.

Over the Sliprails Henry Lawson 1894