MATES AT BILLABONG. 

by

Mary Grant Bruce (1878-1958). 

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER I NORAH'S HOME CHAPTER II TOGETHER CHAPTER III BATH--AND AN INTRODUCTION CHAPTER IV CUTTING OUT CHAPTER V TWO POINTS OF VIEW CHAPTER VI COMING HOME CHAPTER VII JIM UNPACKS CHAPTER VIII A THUNDERSTORM CHAPTER IX THE BILLABONG DANCE CHAPTER X CHRISTMAS CHAPTER XI "LO, THE POOR INDIAN!" CHAPTER XII OF POULTRY CHAPTER XIII STATION DOINGS CHAPTER XIV CUNJEE v. MULGOA CHAPTER XV THE RIDE HOME CHAPTER XVI A CHILD'S PONY CHAPTER XVII ON THE HILLSIDE CHAPTER XVIII BROTHER AND SISTER CHAPTER XIX THE LONG QUEST CHAPTER XX MATES

CHAPTER I

NORAH'S HOME

 The grey old dwelling, rambling and wide, With the homestead paddocks on either side, And the deep verandahs and porches tall Where the vine climbs high on the trellised wall. G. ESSEX EVANS. 

Billabong homestead lay calm and peaceful in the slanting rays of thesum that crept down the western sky. The red roofs were half hidden inthe surrounding trees--pine and box and mighty blue gums towering abovethe tenderer green of the orchard, and the wide-flung tendrils of theVirginia creeper that was pushing slender fingers over the old walls. If you came nearer, you found how the garden rioted in colour under thetouch of early summer, from the crimson rambler round the eastern baywindow to the "Bonfire" salvia blazing in masses on the lawn; but fromthe paddocks all that could be seen was the mass of green, and themellow red of the roof glimpsing through. Further back came a glance ofrippled silver, where the breeze caught the surface of the lagoon--toolazy a breeze to do more than faintly stir the reed-fringed water. Towards it a flight of black swans winged slowly, with outstretchednecks, across a sky of perfect blue. Their leader's note floated down, as if in answer to the magpies that carolled in the pine trees by thestables. The sound seemed to hang in the still air. 

Beyond the tennis-court, in the farther recesses of the garden, ahammock swung between two grevillea trees, whose orange flowers made agay canopy overhead; and in the hammock Norah swayed gently, andknitted, and pondered. The shining needles flashed in and out of thedark blue silk sock. Outsiders--mothers of prim daughters, whom Norahpictured as finding their wildest excitement in "patting a doll"--werewont to deplore that the only daughter of David Linton of Billabong wasbrought up in an eccentric fashion, less girl than boy; but outsidersare apt to cherish delusions, and Norah was not without her share ofgentle accomplishments. Knitting was one; the sock grew quickly in thecapable brown fingers that could grip a stock-whip as easily as theyhandled the needles. All the while, she was listening. 

About her the coo of invisible doves fell gently, mingling with thehappy droning of bees in the overhead blossoms. Somewhere, not far off, a sheep bell tinkled monotonously, the only outside sound in theafternoon stillness. It was very peaceful. To Norah, who knew that theworld held no place like Billabong, it only lacked one person for thefinal seal of perfection. 

"Wish Dad would come, " she said aloud, puckering her brow over a knotin the silk. "He's late--and it is jolly dull without him. " The knotcame free, and the needles raced as though making up for lost time. 

Two dogs lay on the grass: a big sleepy collie that only movedoccasionally to snap at a worrying fly; and an Irish terrier, plainlyshowing by his restlessness that he despised a lazy life, and longedfor action. He caught his mistress's eye at last, and jumped up with alittle whine. 

"If YOU had the heel of a sock to turn, Puck, " said Norah, "you'd bemore steady. Lie down, old man. "

Puck lay down again discontentedly, put his nose on his paws, andfeigned slumber, one restless eyelid betraying the hollowness of thepretence. Presently he rolled over--and chancing to roll on a spikytwig, rose with a wild yelp of annoyance. Across Norah's laugh came astock-whip crack; and the collie came to life suddenly, and sprang up, as impatient as the terrier. Norah slipped out of the hammock. 

"There's Dad!" she said. "Come along!"

She was tall for her fourteen years, and very slender--"scraggy, " Jimwas wont to say, with the cheerful frankness of brothers. Norah borethe epithet meekly--she held the view that it was better to be dead thanfat. There was something boyish in the straight, slim figure in theblue linen frock--perhaps the quality was also to be found in a frankmanner that was the product of years of the Bush and open-air life. Thegrey eyes were steady, and met those of others with a straight levelglance; the mouth was a little firm-set for her years, but the childwas revealed when it broke into smiles--and Norah was rarely grave. Nohuman power had yet been discovered to keep in order the brown curls. Their distressed owner tied them back firmly with a wide ribbon eachmorning; but the ribbon generally was missing early in the day, andmight be replaced with anything that came handy--possibly a fragment ofred tape from the office, or a bit of a New Zealand flax leaf, or haplyeven a scrap of green hide. Anything, said Norah, decidedly, was betterthan your hair all over your face. For the rest, a nondescript nose, somewhat freckled, and a square chin, completed a face no one wouldhave dreamed of calling pretty. In his own mind her father referred toit as something better. But then there was tremendous friendshipbetween the master of Billabong and his small daughter. 

The stock-whip cracked again, nearer home this time; and Norah crammedthe blue silk sock hastily into a little work-bag, and raced away overthe lawn, her slim black legs making great time across the buffalograss. Beside her tore the collie and Puck, each a vision of embodieddelight. They flashed round the corner of the house, scattered thegravel on the path leading to the back, and came out into the yard as abig black horse pulled up at the gate, and the tall man on his backswung himself lightly to the ground. From some unseen region a blackboy appeared silently and led the horse away. Norah, her father, andthe dogs arrived at the gate simultaneously. 

"I thought you were never coming, Daddy, " said the mistress ofBillabong, incoherently. "Did you have a good trip?--and how did Monarchgo?--and did you buy the cattle?--and have you had any dinner?" Shepunctuated each query with a hug, and paused only for lack of breath. 

"Steady!" said David Linton, laughing. "I'm not a ready reckoner! I'vebought the bullocks, and Monarch went quite remarkably well, and yes, I've had dinner, thank you. And how have you been getting on, Norah?"

"Oh, all right, " said his daughter. "It was pretty slow, of course--italways is when you go away, Daddy. I worked, and pottered round withBrownie, and went out for rides. And oh, Dad! ever so many letters--andJim's coming home next week!" She executed an irrepressible pirouette. "And he's got the cup for the best average at the sports--bestall-around athlete that means, doesn't it? Isn't it lovely?"

"That's splendid!" Mr. Linton said, looking as pleased as his daughter. "And any school prizes?"

"He didn't mention, " Norah answered. "I don't suppose so, bless him!But there's one thing pretty sickening--the boys can't come with him. Wally may come later, but Harry has to go to Tasmania with hisfather--isn't it unreasonable?"

"I'm sorry he can't come, but on the whole I've a fellow feeling forthe father, " said Jim's parent. "A man wants to see something of hisson occasionally, I suppose. And any news from Mrs. Stephenson?"

"She's better, " Norah answered, her face growing graver. "Dick wrote. And there's a letter for you from Mrs. Stephenson, too. She says she'sbrighter, and the sea-voyage was evidently the thing for her, 'causeshe's more like herself than at any time since--since my dear old Hermitdied. " Norah's voice shook a little. "They expect to be in Wellingtonall the summer, and perhaps longer. "

"It was certainly a good prescription, that voyage. " Mr. Linton said. "I don't think she would have been long in following her husband--poorold chap!--if they had remained here. But one misses them, Norah. "

"Horrid, " said Norah, with emphasis. "I miss her all the time--and it'squite rum, Dad, but I do believe I miss lessons. Over five weeks sinceI had any! Are you going to get me another tutor?"

"We'll see, " said her father. They were in the big dining-room by thistime, and he was turning over the pile of letters that had come duringhis three days' absence from the station. "Any chance of tea, Norah?"

"Well, rather!" said Norah. "You read your letters, and I'll go andtell Sarah. And Brownie'll be wanting to see you. I won't be long, Daddy. " She vanished. 

A few minutes later Mr. Linton looked up from a letter that had put acrease into his brow. A firm, flat step sounded in the hall, and Mrs. Brown came in--cook and housekeeper to the homestead, the guide, philosopher and friend of everyone, and the special protector of thelittle motherless girl about whom David Linton's life centred. "Brownie" was not a person lightly to be reckoned with, and her masterwas wont to turn to her whenever any question arose affecting Norah. Hegreeted her warmly now. 

"We're all glad to welkim you back, sirr, " said Brownie. "As for thatblessed child, she's not like the same 'uman bein' when you're off theplace. Passed me jus' now in the passige, goin' full bat, an' turned'ead over 'eels, she did--I didn't need to be told you'd got 'ome!" Shehesitated: "You heard from Mrs. Stephenson, sir?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Linton, glancing at the letter in his hand. "As Ithought--she confirms our opinion. I'm afraid there's no help for it. "

"I knew she would, " said Mrs. Brown, heavily, a shadow falling onto herbroad, pleasant face. "Oh, I know there's no 'elp, sir--it has to be. But--but--" She put her apron to her eyes. 

"We're really very lucky, I suppose, " Mr. Linton said, in tonesdistinctly unappreciative, at the moment, of any luck. "Mrs. Stephensonhas been a second mother to Norah, these two years--between you and herI can't see that the child needed anything; and with Dick as tutor shehas made remarkable progress. Personally, I'd have let the arrangementgo on indefinitely. Now that they've had to leave us, however--" Hepaused, folding up the letter slowly. 

"She couldn't stay 'ere, poor lady, " Mrs. Brown said; "'tain't inreason she'd be able to after the old gentleman's death, with the placefull of memories an' all. An', of course, she'd want Mr. Dick alongwith her. Anyway, the precious lamb's getting a big girl to be taughtonly by a young gentleman--" and Brownie pursed up her lips, lookingsuch a model of all the proprieties that Mr. Linton smiledinvoluntarily. 

"She's all right, " he said shortly. "Of course, her aunt has been at mefor ever so long to send her to school. "

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, Mrs. Geoffrey don't know everythink, " saidMrs. Brown, bridling. "Her not havin' any daughters of 'er own, 'ow canit be expected that she'd understand? An' town ladies can't nevercompre'end country children, any'ow. Our little maid's jus' grown uplike a bush flower, an' all the better she is for it. "

"But the time comes for change, Brownie, old friend, " said Mr. Linton. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Brown, "it do. But what the station'll do is more'n Ican see just at present--an' as for you, sir--an' let alone me--" Hercomfortable, fat voice died away, and the apron was at her eyes again. "What'll Billabong be, with its little girl at school?"

"At--WHERE?" asked Norah. 

She had come in with the tea-tray in her hands--a little flushed fromthe fire, and her brown face alight with all the hundred-and-one thingsshe had yet to tell Daddy. On the threshold she paused, struckmotionless by that amazing speech. She looked a little helplessly fromone face to the other; and the two who loved her felt the samehelplessness as they looked back. It was not an easy thing to passsentence of exile from Billabong on Norah. 

"I--" said her father. "You see, dear--Dick having gone--you know, youraunt--" He stopped, his tongue tied by the look in Norah's eyes. 

Brownie slipped into the breach. 

"You're so big now, dearie, " she said, "so, big--and--and--" With thislucid effort at enlightenment she put her apron fairly over her headand turned away to the open window. 

But Norah's eyes were on her father. Just for a moment the sick senseof bewilderment and despair seemed to crush her altogether. She hadrealized her sentence in a flash--that the home that meant all the worldto her, and from which Heaven only differed in that Mother was there, was to be changed for a new, strange world that would be empty of allthat she knew and loved. Vaguely she had always known that the blowhung over her--now that it had fallen, for a moment there was no roomfor any other thought. Her look, wide with grief and appeal, met herfather's. 

And then she realized slowly that he was suffering too--that he waslooking to her for the response that had never failed him yet. Hissilence told her that this thing was unavoidable, and that he neededher help. Mates such as they must stand by one another--that was part ofthe creed that had grown up in Norah's heart. Daddy had always saidthat no matter what happened he could rely upon her. She could not failhim now. 

So, just as the silence in the room became oppressive, Norah smiledinto her father's eyes, and carefully put the tea-tray upon the table. 

"If you say it's got to be, well, that's all about it, Daddy, " shesaid. The voice was low, but it did not quiver. "Don't worry, darling;it's all right. Sarah was out, and Mary goodness knows where, so I madetea myself; I hope it's drinkable. " She brought her father's cup to hisside and smiled at him again. 

"My blessed lamb!" said Mrs. Brown, hastily--and fled from the room. 

David Linton did not take the cup; instead he slipped his arm round thechildish body. 

"You think we can stand it, then?" he asked. "It's not you alone, little mate; your old Dad's under sentence too. "

"I think that makes things a lot easier, " said Norah, "'cause you andI always do things together, don't we, Daddy? And--and--" Just for amoment her lips trembled. "Must we, Dad?"

He tightened his arm. 

"Yes, dear. "

There was a pause. 

"After Christmas?"

"Yes--in February. "

"Then I've got nine weeks, " said Norah, practically. "We won't talkabout it more than we can help, I think, don't you? Have your tea, Daddy, or it'll be cold and horrid. " She brought her own cup and satdown on the arm of his chair. "How many bullocks did you buy?"

CHAPTER II

TOGETHER

 And you and I were faithful mates. HENRY LAWSON. 

Afterwards--when the blow was a little less heavy as Norah grewaccustomed to it--they talked it over thoroughly. 

Norah's education, in the strict sense of the term, had only beencarried on for about two years. In reality it had gone on all her life, spent mostly at her father's side; but that was the kind of educationthat does not live between the covers of books. Together, David Lintonand his daughter had worked, and played and talked--much more of theformer condition than of either of the latter. All that the bush couldteach her Norah knew, and in most of the work of the station--Billabongwas a noted cattle-run--she was as handy as any of the men. Her father'sconstant mate, every day shared with him was a delight to her. Theyrode together, fished, camped and explored together; it was the rarestoccurrence for Mr. Linton's movements not to include Norah as a matterof course. 

Yet there was something in the quiet man that had effectually preventedany development of roughness in Norah. Boyish and offhand to a certainextent, the solid foundation of womanliness in her nature was never farbelow the surface. She was perfectly aware that while Daddy wanted amate he also wanted a daughter; and there was never any real danger ofher losing that gentler attribute--there was too much in her of thelittle dead mother for that. Brownie, the ever watchful, had seen to itthat she did not lack housewifely accomplishments, and Mr. Linton waswont to say proudly that Norah's scones were as light as her hand onthe horse's mouth. There was no doubt that the irregular side of hereducation was highly practical. 

Two years before Fate had taken a new interest in Norah's development, bringing as inmates of the homestead an old friend of her father's, with his wife and son. The latter acted as Norah's tutor, and found histask an easy one, for the untrodden ground of the little girl's brainyielded remarkable results. To Mrs. Stephenson fell the work of gentlymoulding her to womanly ways--less easy this, for while Norah had nodesire to be a tomboy, she was firmly of the opinion that once lessonswere over, she had simply no time to stay inside the house and beproper. Still, the gentle influence told, imperceptibly softening andtoning her character, and giving her a standard by which to adaptherself; and Norah was nothing if not adaptable. Then, six monthspreviously, the old man they all loved had quietly faded out of life;and after he had gone his widow could no longer remain in the placewhere he had died. She pined slowly, until Dick Stephenson, the son, had taken her almost forcibly away. The unspoken fear that the partingwas not merely temporary had merged into certainty. Billabong wouldknow them no more. The question remaining was what to do with Norah. 

"I want you to have the school training, " Mr. Linton said, when theytalked the matter over. "You must mix with other girls--learn to seethings from their point of view, and realize how many points of viewthere are outside Billabong. Oh, I don't want you to think there areany better "--he laughed at the vigorous shake of the brown curls--"butthe world has wider boundaries, and you must find them out. There areother things, too"--vaguely--"dancing and deportment, and--er--the use ofthe globes, and I think there's a thing called a blackboard, but I'mnot sure. Dick didn't know. In fact, there's a regulation mill, and Isuppose you must go through it--I don't feel afraid that they'll spoilmy little girl's individuality in the process. "

"Is it a big school, Daddy?"

"Yes, I believe so. Several people I know send their girls there. Andit's a great place for sports, Norah. You'll like that. They're keen onhockey and cricket and all sorts of things girls never dreamed aboutwhen I was young. Possibly I may live to see you a slow bowler yet, andplaying in a match! Honestly, Norah, I believe you'll be very happy atschool. "

"And what'll you do, Daddy?"

"I don't know, " he said, heavily. "I told you I was under sentence. "

They sat awhile in silence. It was evening, and they were on theverandah; Mr. Linton in a big basket chair, and Norah curled up at hisfeet in the way she loved. She could not see his face--just then she didnot want to. She said nothing. The moon climbed up slowly, and thefrogs were merry in the lagoon. Far off the cry of a bittern boomedacross the flats. 

"Well, at least we've got nine weeks, " Norah said at length. "Nineweeks to be mates--and Jim'll be home next week, and he'll be mates, too. Don't let's get blue about it, Daddy. It'll be so horrid when thetime comes, that it's no good letting it spoil these nine weeks. Can'twe try to forget it?"

"We can try, " said David Linton. 

"Course, we won't do it, " Norah said. "But don't let's talk about it. I'm going to put it out of my head as much as ever I can, and have thistime for just Billabong and us. Will you, Daddy?"

"I'll do all I can, my girlie, " said her father. "You mustn't start offwith any bad memories; we'll have the most crowded nine weeks of ourlives, and make a solemn resolve to 'buck up. ' I'd like to plansomething for this week, but, upon my word, I'm too busy to play, Norah. There's any amount to be done. "

"But I don't want to play, " Norah said. "Work's good enough for ME, Daddy, if I can work with you. Can't I come, too?"

"I'll be exceedingly glad of your help, " said her father--which wasexactly what Norah wanted him to say, and went far to cheer her. Sheput the dismal future resolutely from her, and set out upon the presentwith a heart as light as possible. 

It was never dull at Billabong. Always there were pets of all kinds tobe seen to. Mr. Linton laid no restriction on pets if they wereproperly tended, and Norah had a collection as wide as it was beloved. Household duties there were, too; but these could be left ifnecessary--two adoring housemaids were always ready to step into thebreach if "business on the run" claimed Norah's attention. And beyondthe range of the homestead altogether there lay an enchanted regionthat only she and Daddy shared--the wide and stretching plains ofBillabong dotted with cattle, seamed with creeks and the river, andmerging at the boundary into a long low line of hills. Norah used togaze at them from her window--sometimes purple, sometimes blue, andsometimes misty grey, but always beautiful to the child who loved them. Others might know Billabong--visit it, ride over it, exclaim at itsbeauties; but Norah always felt that there were only two who reallyunderstood and cared--Daddy and herself. 

Of course there was Jim--the big brother who was seventeen now, and justabout to leave school. Norah was immensely proud of him, and theaffection between them was a thing that never wavered. Jim lovedBillabong, too; but it was only to be expected that six years of schoolin Melbourne would make something of a difference. He knew, in thewords of the old Roman, "There is a world elsewhere. " But Norah knew noworld beyond Billabong. 

For all that, Jim was distinctly desirable as a brother. He had alwaysmade a tremendous chum of Norah, and the friends he brought home foundthey were expected to do the same. This might cause them surprise atfirst, but they very soon found that "the kiddie" was quite excellentas a mate, and could put them up to a good deal more than they usuallyknew about the Bush. Norah was invariably Jim's first thought. He was abig, quiet fellow, very like his father; not over-brilliant at books, but a first-rate sport, and without a trace of meanness in his generousnature. At school he was worshipped by the boys--was not he captain ofthe football team, stroke of the eight, and best all-round athlete?--andliked by the masters, who found him inclined to be careless over workbut absolutely reliable in every other way. Such a fellow does not winscholarships, but he is a tower of strength to his school. 

For the week preceding Jim's return Norah and her father worked hard, clearing up various odd jobs so that their time might be free when theboy arrived. There was a quaint side to this, in that Jim would withoutdoubt have been delighted to help in any station work, which alwayspresented itself to him as "no end of a lark" after the strenuous lifeat school. But it was a point of honour with those at home to leavenone of their work until the holidays and the last week was invariablythe scene of many labours. 

Not that there were not plenty of hands on the station. It was a bigrun, and gave employment in one way or another to quite a band of men. But Mr. Linton preferred to keep a very close watch over everything, and he had long realized that the best way of seeing that your businessis done is to take a hand yourself. The men said, "The boss waseverywhere, " and they respected him the more in that he was nokid-glove employer, but was willing to share in any work that was goingforward. Especially he insisted on working among the cattle, and--Norahwas nearly always with him on his rides--they had a more or lessaccurate knowledge of every beast on the place. Outside the boundaryfences they went very seldom; the nearest township, seventeen milesaway, Norah regarded as merely a place where you called for the mail, and save that it meant a ride or drive with her father, she had neverthe slightest desire to go there. 

Summer was very late that year, and "burning-off" operations on therougher parts of the run had been carried on much longer than wasgenerally possible. Norah always regarded "burning-off" as an immensepicnic, and used to beg her father to take her out. Night after nightfound them down on the flats, getting rid of old dead trees, which upto the present had refused obstinately to burn. It was picturesquework, and Norah loved it, though she would have been somewhatembarrassed had you hinted that the picturesqueness had anything to dowith its attractions. 

One after another, they would light the stumps, some squat and solid, others rising thirty or forty feet into the air. Once the fires werelit, it was necessary to keep them going; moving backwards and forwardsamong the trees, stoking, picking up fallen bits of burning timber andadding them to the fires, coaxing sullen embers into a blaze, edgingthe fire round a tree, so that the wind might do its utmost in helpingthe work--there were no idle moments for the "burners-off. " Sometimes itwould be necessary to enlarge a crack or hole in a tough stump, to gaina hold for the fire. Norah always carried a light iron bar, speciallymade for her at the station forge, which she called her poker, andwhich answered half a dozen purposes equally well, and though not anideal weapon for killing a snake, being too stiff and straight, hadbeen known to act in that capacity also. Every scrap of loose timber onthe ground would be picked up and added to the flames. Some stumps werevery obstinate and resisted all blandishments to burn; but carefulhandling generally ensured the fate of the majority. 

There are few sights more weird, or more typically Australian, than apaddock at night with burning-off in process. Low and high, the redcolumns of fire stand in a darkness made blacker by their lurid glow. Where the fire has taken hold fairly the flames are fierce, and showersof sparks fall like streams of gold. Sometimes a dull crack giveswarning of the fall of a long-dead giant; and the burning mass leansslowly over, and then comes down with a crash, while the curiousbullocks, which have poked as near as they dare to the strange scene, fling round and lumber off in a heavy gallop, heads down and tails up. From stump to stump flit the little black figures of the workers, standing out clearly sometimes, by the light of a blaze so fierce thatto face it is scarcely possible; or half seen in the dull glow of asmouldering tree poking vigorously--seeming as ants attacking livingmonsters infinitely beyond their strength. Perhaps it is there that thefascination of the work comes in--the triumph of conquering tons ofinanimate matter by efforts so small. At any rate it is always hard toleave the scene of action, and certainly the first glance next morningis to see "which are down. "

Then there were days spent among the cattle--days that always meant thehigh-water mark of bliss to Norah. She road astride, and her specialpony, Bobs, to whom years but added perfection, loved the work as muchas she did. They understood each other perfectly; if Norah carried ahunting-crop, it was merely for assistance in opening gates, for Bobsnever felt its touch. A hint from her heel, or a quick word, conveyedall the big bay pony ever needed to supplement his own common sense, ofwhich Mr. Linton used to say he possessed more than most men. The newbullocks arrived, and had to be drafted and branded--during which latteroperation Norah retired dismally to the house and the socks that had tobe finished in time to be Jim's Christmas present. Then, after thebranding, came a most cheerful time, putting the cattle into theirvarious paddocks. 

One day was spent in mustering sheep, an employment not at all toNorah's taste. She was frankly glad that Billabong devoted most of itsenergies to cattle, and only put up with the sheep work because, sinceDaddy was there, it never occurred to her to do anything else but go. But she hated the slow, dusty ride, and hailed with delight a gallopthat came in their way towards the end of the day, when a hare jumpedup under Bob's nose as they rode homewards from the yards. The dogspromptly gave chase; and, almost without knowing it, Norah and Bobswere in hot pursuit, with Monarch shaking the earth behind them. Theaverage sheep dog is no match for a hare, and the quarry easily escapedinto the next paddock, after a merry run. Norah pulled up, her eyesdancing. 

"Don't you know it's useless to try to get a hare with those fellows?"asked Mr. Linton, checking the reeking Monarch, and indicating with anod the dogs, which were highly aggrieved at their defeat. 

"But I never wanted to get it, " said his daughter, in surprise. "It'sperfectly awful to get a hare; they cry just like a baby, and it makesyou feel horrid. "

"Then why did you go after it?"

"Why?" asked Norah, opening her eyes. "Well, I knew the dogs couldn'tcatch it--and I believe you wanted a gallop nearly as much as I did, Daddy!" They laughed at each other, and let the impatient horses havetheir heads across the cleared paddock to the homestead. 

There a letter awaited them. 

Norah, coming in to dinner in a white frock, with her curls unusuallytidy, found her father looking anything but pleased over a closelycovered sheet of thin notepaper. 

"I wish to goodness women would write legibly, " he said, with someheat. "No one on earth has any right to write on both sides of paper asthin as this--and then across it! No one but your Aunt Eva would doit--she always had a passion for small economies, together with one forlarge extravagances. Amazing woman! Well, I can't read half of it, butwhat she wants is unhappily clear. "

"She isn't coming here, Daddy?"

"Saints forbid!" ejaculated Mr. Linton, who had a lively dread of hissister--a lady of much social eminence, who disapproved strongly of hisupbringing of Norah. "No, she doesn't mention such an extreme course, but there's something almost as alarming. She wants to send Cecil herefor Christmas. "

"Cecil! Oh, Daddy!" Norah's tone was eloquent. 

"Says he's been ill, " said her father, glancing at the letter in a vaineffort to decipher a message written along one edge. "He's better, butneeds change, and she seems to think Billabong will prove asanatorium. " He looked at Norah with an expression of dismay that wascomical. "I shouldn't have thought we'd agree with that young man abit, Norah!"

"I've never seen him, of course, " Norah said unhappily, "but Jim sayshe's pretty awful. And you didn't like him yourself, did you, Daddy?"

"On the rare occasions that I've had the pleasure of meeting my nephewI've always thought him an unlicked cub, " Mr. Linton answered. "Ofcourse it's eighteen months since I saw him; possibly he may havechanged for the better, but at that time his bumptiousness certainlyappeared to be on the increase. He had just left school then--he must benearly twenty now. "

"Oh--quite old, " said Norah. "What is he like?"

"Pretty!" said Mr. Linton, wrinkling his nose. "As pretty as hisname--Cecil--great Scott! I wonder if he'd let me call him Bill forshort! Bit of a whipper-snapper, he seemed; but I didn't take very muchnotice of him--saw he was plainly bored by his uncle from the Bush, so Ididn't worry him. Well, now he's ours for a time your aunt doesn'tlimit--more that that, if I can make a guess at these hieroglyphics, I've got to send a telegram to say we'll have him on Saturday. "

"And this is Wednesday--oh, Dad!" expostulated Norah. 

"Can't be helped, " her father said. "We've got to go through with it;if the boy has been ill he must certainly have all the change we cangive him. But I'm doubtful. Eva says he's had a 'nervous breakdown, 'and I rather think it's a complaint I don't believe in for boys oftwenty. "

The dinner gong sounded. Amid its echoes Norah might have been heardmurmuring something about "nervous grandmother. "

"H'm, " said her father, laughing; "I don't think he'll find muchsympathy with his more fragile symptoms in Billabong--we must try tobrace him up, Norah. But whatever will Jim say, I wonder!"

"He'll be too disgusted for words, " Norah answered. "Poor old Jimmy! Iwonder how they'll get on. D'you suppose Cecil ever played football?"

"From Cecil's appearance I should say he devoted his time towool-work, " said Mr. Linton. "However, it may not turn out as badly aswe think, and it's no use meeting trouble halfway, is it? Also, we'veto remember that he'll be our guest. "

"But that's the trouble, " said Norah, laughing. "It wouldn't be half sobad if you could laugh at him. I'll have to be so hugely polite!"

"You'll probably shock him considerably in any case, " said her father. "Cecil's accustomed to very prim young ladies, and it's not at allunlikely that he'll try to reform you!"

"I wish him luck!" said Norah. But there was a glint in her eyes whichboded ill for Cecil's reformatory efforts. 

CHAPTER III

A BATH--AND AN INTRODUCTION

 Quiet and shy, as the Bush girls are, But ready-witted and plucky, too. A. B. PATERSON. 

The telegram assuring a welcome to Cecil Linton was duly dispatched, and the fact of his impending arrival broken to Mrs. Brown, who sniffedportentously, and gave without enthusiasm directions for thepreparation of his room. "Mrs. Geoffrey" was rather a bugbear toBrownie, who had unpleasant recollections of a visit in the past fromthat majestic lady. During her stay of a week, she had attempted toalter every existing arrangement at Billabong--and when she finallydeparted, in a state of profound disapproval, the relief of thehomestead was immense. Brownie was unable to feel any delight at theidea of entertaining her son. 

Norah and her father made the utmost of their remaining time together. Thursday was devoted to a great muster of calves, which meant unlimitedgalloping and any amount of excitement; for the sturdy youngsters wererunning with their mothers in one of the bush paddocks, and it was noeasy matter to cut them out and work them away from the friendlyshelter and refuge of the trees. A bush-reared calf is an irresponsiblebeing, with a great fund of energy and spirits--and, while Norah lovedher day, she was thoroughly tired as they rode home in the lateevening, the last straggler yarded in readiness for the branding nextday. Mr. Linton sent her to bed early, and she did not wake in themorning until the dressing gong boomed its cheerful summons through thehouse. 

Mr. Linton was already at breakfast when swift footsteps were heard inthe hall above; a momentary silence indicated that his daughter wascoming downstairs by way of the banisters, and the next moment shearrived hastily. 

"I'm so sorry, Dad, " Norah said, greeting him. "But I DID sleep! Letme pour out your coffee. "

She brought the cup to him, investigated a dish of bacon, and slippedinto her place behind the tall silver coffee pot. 

"What are we going to do to-day, Dad?"

"I really don't quite know, " Mr. Linton said, smiling at her. "Therearen't any very pressing jobs on hand--we must cut out cattle to-morrowfor trucking, but to-day seems fairly free. Have you any ideas on thesubject of how you'd like to spend it? I've letters to write for acouple of hours, but after that I'm at your disposal. "

Norah wrinkled her brows. 

"There are about fifty things I want to do, " she said. "But most ofthem ought to wait until Jim comes home. " She thought for a moment. "Idon't want to miss any more time with Bobs than I have to--could we rideover to the backwater, Dad, and muster up the cattle there? You knowyou said you were going to do so, pretty soon. "

"I'd nearly forgotten that I had to see them, " Mr. Linton said, hastily. "Glad you reminded me, Norah. We'll have lunch early, and goacross. "

Norah's morning was spent in helping Mrs. Brown to compound Christmascakes--large quantities of which were always made and stored well beforeChristmas, with due reference to the appetites of Jim and his friends. Then a somewhat heated and floury damsel donned a neat divided ridingskirt of dark-blue drill, with a white-linen coat, and the collar andtie which Norah regarded as the only reasonable neck gear, and joinedher father in the office. 

"Ready? That's right, " said he, casting an approving glance at the trimfigure. "I've just finished writing, and the horses are in. "

"So's lunch, " Norah responded. "It's a perfectly beautiful day for aride, Daddy--hurry up!"

The day merited Norah's epithet, as they rode over the paddocks in theafternoon. As yet the grass had not dried up, thanks to the late rains, and everywhere a green sea rippled to the fences. Soon it would be dulland yellow; but this day there was nothing to mar the perfection of thecarpet that gave softly under the horses' hoofs. The dogs raced wildlybefore them, chasing swallows and ground-larks in the cheerfullyidiotic manner of dogs, with always a wary ear for Mr. Linton'swhistle: but as yet they were not on duty, and were allowed to runriot. 

An old log fence stretched before them. It was the only one onBillabong, where all station details were strictly up-to-date. This onehad been left, partly because it was picturesque, and partly at therequest of Jim and Norah, because it gave such splendid opportunitiesfor jumping. There were not many places on that old fence that Bobs didnot know, and he began to reef and pull as they came nearer to it. 

"I don't believe I'll be able to hold him in, Daddy!" said Norah, withmock anxiety. 

"Not afraid, I hope?" asked her father, laughing. 

"Very--that you won't want to jump! I'd hate to disappoint him, Daddy--may I?"

"Oh, go on!" said Mr. Linton. "If I said 'no' the savage animal wouldprobably bolt!" He held Monarch back as Norah gave the bay pony hishead, and they raced for the fence; watching with a smile in his eyesthe straight little form in the white coat, the firm seat in thesaddle, the steady hand on the rein. Bobs flew the big log like a bird, and Norah twisted in her saddle to watch the black horse follow. Hereyes were glowing as her father came up. 

"I do think he loves it as much as I do!" she said, patting the pony'sneck. 

"He's certainly as keen a pony as I ever saw, " Mr. Linton said. "Howare you going to manage without him, Norah?"

Norah looked up, her eyes wide with astonishment. 

"Do without BOBS!" she exclaimed. "But I simply couldn't--he's one ofthe family. " Then her face fell suddenly, and the life died out of hervoice. "Oh--school, " she said. 

The change was rather pitiful, and Mr. Linton mentally abused himselffor his question. 

"He'll always be waiting for you when you come home, dear, " he said. "Plenty of holidays--and think how fit he'll be! We'll have great rides, Norah. "

"I guess I'll want them, " she said. Silence fell between them. 

The scrub at the backwater was fairly thick, and the cattle had soughtits shade when the noonday sun struck hot. Well fed and sleek, they layabout under the trees or on the little grassy flats formed by the bendsof the stream. Norah and her father separated, each taking a dog, andbeat through the bush, routing out stragglers as they went. The echoesof the stock-whips rang along the water. Norah's was only a light whip, half the length and weight of the one her father carried. It wasbeautifully plaited--a special piece of work, out of a special hide;while the handle was a triumph of the stockman's art. It had been agift to Norah from an old boundary rider whose whips were famous, andshe valued it more than most of her possessions, while long practiceand expert tuition had given her no little skill in its use. 

She worked through the scrub, keeping her eyes in every direction, forthe cattle were lazy and did not stir readily, and it was easy to missa motionless beast hidden behind a clump of dogwood or Christmasbush--the scrub tree that greets December with its exquisite whiteblossoms. When at length she came to the end of her division and droveher cattle out of the shelter she had quite a respectable little mob toadd to those with which her father was already waiting. 

It was only to be a rough muster; rather, a general inspection to seehow the bullocks were doing, for the nearest stockyards were at thehomestead, and Mr. Linton did not desire to drive them far. He managedto get a rough count along a fence--Norah in the rear, bringing thebullocks along slowly, so that they strung out under their owner's eye. Occasionally one would break out and try to race past him on the wrongside. Bobs was as quick as his rider to watch for these vagrants, andat the first hint of a breakaway he would be off in pursuit. It waswork the pair loved. 

"Hundred and thirty, " said Mr. Linton, as the last lumbering beasttrotted past him, and, finding the way clear, with no harrowingcreatures to annoy him and head him back to his mates, kicked up hisheels and made off across the paddock. 

"Did any get behind me, Norah?"

"No, Daddy. "

"That's a good girl. They look well, don't they?"

Norah assented. "Did you notice how that big poley bullock had come on, Dad?"

"Yes, he's three parts fat, " said Mr. Linton. "All very satisfactory, and the count is only two short--not bad for a rough muster. "

They turned homewards, cantering quickly over the paddocks; the goingwas too good, Norah said, to waste on walking; and it was a delight tofeel the long, even stride under one, and the gentle wind blowing uponone's cheeks. As he rode, Mr. Linton watched the eager, vivid littleface, alight with the joy of motion. If Bobs were keen, there was nodoubt that his mistress was even keener. 

They crossed the log fence again by what Norah termed "the directroute, " traversed the home paddock, and drew up with a clatter of hoofsat the stable yard. Billy, a black youth of some fame concerninghorses, came forward as they dismounted and took the bridles. But Norahpreferred to unsaddle Bobs herself and let him go; she held it onlycivil after he had carried her well. She was leading him off when thedusky retainer muttered something to her father. 

"Oh, all right, Billy, " said Mr. Linton. "Norah, those fellows fromCunjee have come to see me about buying sheep. I expect I shall have totake them out to the paddock I don't think you'd better come. "

"All right, Dad. " Sheep did not interest Norah very much. "I think I'llgo down to the lagoon. "

"Very well, don't distinguish yourself by falling in, " said her father, with a laugh over his shoulder as he hurried away towards the house. 

Left to herself, Norah paid a visit to Brownie in the kitchen, whichresulted in afternoon tea--there was never a bush home where tea did notmake its appearance on the smallest possible pretext. Then she slippedoff her linen jacket and brown leather leggings and, having beguiledblack Billy into digging her some worms, found some fishing tackle andstrolled down to the lagoon. 

It was a broad sheet of water, at one end thickly fringed with trees, while in the shallower parts a forest of green, feathery reeds borderedit, swaying and rustling all day, no matter how soft the breeze. Thedeeper end had been artificially hollowed out, and a bathing box hadbeen built, with a springboard jutting out over the water. Under theraised floor of the bathing box a boat was moored. Norah pulled it outand dropped down into it, stowing her tin of worms carefully in thestern. Then she paddled slowly into the deepest part of the lagoon, baited her line scientifically, and began to fish. 

Only eels rewarded her efforts; and while eels are not bad fun to pullout, Norah regarded them as great waste of time, since no one atBillabong cared to eat them, and in any case she would not let themcome into the boat--for a good-sized eel can make a boat unpleasantlyslimy in a very short time. So each capture had to be carefullyreleased at the stern--not a very easy task. Before long Norah's whiteblouse showed various marks of conflict; and being by nature a cleanperson, she was rather disgusted with things in general. When at lengtha large silver eel, on being pulled up, was found to have swallowed thehook altogether, she fairly lost patience. 

"Well, you'll have to keep it, " she said, cutting her line; whereuponthe eel dropped back into the water thankfully, and made off as thoughhe had formed a habit of dining on hooks, and, in fact, preferred themas an article of diet. "I'm sure you'll have shocking indigestion, "Norah said, watching the swirl of bubbles. 

The boat had drifted some way down the lagoon, and a rustle told Norahthat they were near one of the reedy islands dotted here and there inthe shallows. There was very little foothold on them, but they madeexcellent nesting places for the ducks that came to the station eachyear. The boat grounded its nose in the soft mud, and Norah jumped upto push it off. Planting the blade of the oar among the reeds, sheleant her weight upon it and shoved steadily. 

The next events happened swiftly. The mud gave way suddenly with asuck, and the oar promptly slithered, burying itself for half itslength; and Norah, taken altogether by surprise, executed a gracefulheader over the bow of the boat. The mud received her softly, and clungto her with affection; and for a moment, face downward among the reeds, Norah clawed for support, like a crab suddenly beached. Then, somehow, she scrambled to a sitting position, up to her waist in mud andwater--and rocked with laughter. A little way off, the boat swayedgently on the ruffled surface of the water. 

"Well--of all the duffers!" Norah said. She tried to stand, andforthwith went up to one knee in the mud. Then, seeing that there wasno help for it, she managed to slip into deeper water--not very easy, for the mud showed a deep attachment to her--and swam to the boat. Toget into it proved beyond her, but, fortunately, the bank was not faroff, and, though her clothes hampered her badly--a riding skirt is themost inconvenient of swimming suits--she was as much at home as a duckin the water, and soon got ashore. 

Then she inspected herself, standing on the grass, while a pool ofwater rapidly widened round her. Alas, for the trim maiden of themorning! soaked to the skin, her lank hair clinging round her face, hercollar a limp rag, the dye from her red silk tie spreading in artisticpatches on her white blouse! Over all was the rich black mud of thelagoon, from brow to boot soles. Her hat, once white felt, was a soddenblack-streaked mass; even her hands and face were stiff with mud. 

"Thank goodness, Daddy's out!" said the soaked one, returning knee-deepin the water to try and cleanse herself as much as might be--which wasno great amount, for lagoon mud defies ordinary efforts. She waded out, still laughing; cast an apprehensive glance at the quarter from whichher father might be expected to return, and set out on her journey tothe house, the water squelching dismally in her boots at every step. 

In the garden at Billabong walked a slim youth in most correct attire. His exquisitely tailored suit of palest grey flannel was set off by alavender-striped shirt, with a tie that matched the stripe. Patentleather shoes with wide ribbon bows shod him; above them, and below theturned-up trousers, lavender silk socks with purple circles made a veryglory of his ankles. On his sleek head he balanced a straw hat with aninfinitesimal brim, a crown tall enough to resemble a monument, and avery wide hat band. His pale, well-featured face betrayed unuttereddepths of boredom. 

The click of the gate made him turn. Coming up the path was a figurethat might have been plaintive but that Norah was so immensely amusedat herself; and the stranger opened his pale eyes widely, for suchapparitions had not come his way. She did not see him for a moment. When she did, he was directly in her path, and Norah pulled up short. 

"Oh!" she said weakly; and then--"I didn't know anyone was here. "

The strange youth looked somewhat disgusted. 

"I should think you'd--ah--better go round to the back, " he saidcondescendingly. "You'll find the housekeeper there. "

This time it was Norah's turn to be open-eyed. 

"Thanks, " she said a little shortly. "Were you waiting to see anyone?"

The boy's eyebrows went up. "I am--ah--staying here. "

"Oh, are you?" Norah said. "I didn't know. I'm Norah Linton. "

"You!" said the stranger. There was such a world of expression in histone that Norah flushed scarlet, suddenly painfully conscious of herextraordinary appearance. Then--it was unusual for her--she became angry. 

"Did you never see anyone wet?" she asked, in trenchant tones. "Anddidn't you ever learn to take your hat off?"

"By Jove!" said the boy, looking at the truculent and mud-streakedfigure. Then he did an unwise thing, for he burst out laughing. 

"I don't know who you are, " Norah said, looking at him steadily. "But Ithink you're the rudest, worst-mannered boy that ever came here!"

She flashed past him with her head in the air. Cecil Linton, staringafter her with amazement, saw her cross the red-tiled verandahhurriedly and disappear within a side door, a trail of wet marks behindher. 

"By Jove!" he said again. "The bush cousin!"

CHAPTER IV

CUTTING OUT

 And the loony bullock snorted when you first came into view, Well, you know, it's not so often that he sees a swell like you. A. B. PATERSON. 

Norah did not encounter the newcomer again until dinner-time. 

She was in the drawing-room, waiting for the gong to sound, when Cecilcame in with her father. For a moment he did not recognize the soakedwaif of the garden whom he had recommended "to go round to the back. "

A hot bath and a change of raiment had restored Norah to her usualself; had helped her also to laugh at her meeting with her cousin, although she was still ruffled at the memory of the sneer in his laugh. Perhaps because of that she had dressed more carefully than usual. Cecil might have been excused for failing to recognize the grave-facedmaiden, very dainty in her simple frock of soft white silk, with herstill-moist curls tied back with a broad white ribbon. 

"As you two have already met, there's no need to introduce you, " saidMr. Linton, a twinkle in his eye. "Sorry your reception was soinformal, Cecil--you took us by surprise. "

"I suppose the mater mixed things up, as usual, " Cecil said, in a boredway. "I certainly intended all along to get here to-day, but she'sfearfully vague, don't you know. I was lucky in getting a lift out. "

"You certainly were, " his uncle said, dryly. "However, I'm glad youdidn't have to wait in the township. You'd have found it slow. "

"I'd probably have gone back, " said Cecil. 

"Ah--would you?" Mr. Linton looked for a moment very much as though hewished he had done so. There was an uncomfortable pause, to which thesummons to dinner formed a welcome break. 

Dinner was very different from the usual cheery meal. Cecil was notshy, and supplied most of the conversation as a matter of course; andhis conversation was of a kind new to Norah. She remained unusuallysilent, being, indeed, fully occupied in taking stock of this novelvariety of boy. She wondered were all city boys different from thoseshe knew. Jim was not like this; neither were the friends he wasaccustomed to bring home with him. They were not a bit grown up, andthey talked of ordinary, wholesome things like cricket and football, and horses, and dormitory "larks, " and were altogether sensible andcompanionable. But Cecil's talk was of theatres and bridge parties, and--actually--clothes! Horses he only mentioned in connexion withracing, and when Mr. Linton inquired mildly if he were fond of dances, he was met by raised eyebrows and a bored disclaimer of caring to doanything so energetic. Altogether this product of city culture was aneye-opener to the simple folks of Billabong. 

Of Norah, Cecil took very little notice. She was evidently a beingquite beneath his attention--he was secretly amused at the way in whichshe presided at her end of the table, and decided in his own mind thathis mother's views had been correct, and that this small girl would beall the better for a little judicious snubbing. So he ignored her inhis conversation, and if she made a remark contrived to infuse a faintshade of patronage into his reply. It is possible that his amazementwould have been great had he known how profoundly his uncle longed tokick him. 

Dinner over, Norah fled to Brownie, and to that sympathetic soulunburdened her woes. Mr. Linton and his nephew retired to the verandah, where the former preferred to smoke in summer. He smiled a little atthe elaborate cigarette case Cecil drew out, but lit his pipe withoutcomment, reflecting inwardly that although cigarettes were scarcely thetreatment, though they might be the cause, of a pasty face and a"nervous breakdown, " it was none of his business to interfere with ayoung gentleman who evidently considered himself a man of the world. Sothey smoked and talked, and when, after a little while, Cecil confessedhimself tired, and went off to bed, he left behind him a completelybored and rather annoyed squatter. 

"Well, Norah, what do you think of him?"

Norah, sitting meekly knitting in the drawing-room, looked up andlaughed as her father came in. 

"Think? Why, I don't think much, Daddy. "

"No more do I, " said Mr. Linton, casting his long form into anarmchair. "Of all the spoilt young cubs!--and that's all it is, I shouldsay: clearly a case of spoiling. The boy isn't bad at heart, but he'snever been checked in his life. Well, I'm told it's risky for a fatherto bring up his daughter unaided, but I'm positive the result is worsewhen an adoring mother rears a fatherless boy! Possibly I've maderather a boy of you--but Cecil's neither one thing nor the other. Whydidn't you come out, my lass?"

"Felt too bad tempered!" said Norah; "he makes me mad when he speaks toyou in that condescending way of his, Daddy. I'll be calmer to-morrow. "She smiled up at her father. "Have a game of chess?"

"It would be soothing, I think, " Mr. Linton answered. He laughed. "It'sreally pathetic--our Darby and Joan existence to be ruffled like this!Thank goodness, he's in bed, for to-night, at any rate!" They got outthe chessmen, and played very happily until Norah's bedtime. 

"Do you ride, Cecil?" Mr. Linton asked next morning at breakfast. 

"Ride? Oh, certainly, " Cecil answered. "I suppose you're all very keenon that sort of thing up here?"

"Well, that's how we earn our living, " his uncle remarked. "Norah is myright-hand man on the run. "

"Ah, how nice! Do you find it hard to get labour here?"

"Oh, we get them, " said Mr. Linton, his eyes twinkling. "But I preferto catch 'em young. We're cutting out cattle for trucking to-day. Wouldyou care to come out?"

"Delighted, " said the nephew, glancing without enthusiasm at hisflannels. "But I didn't dress for riding. "

"Oh, we're not absolute sticklers for costume here, " Mr. Linton said, laughing outright. "Wear what you like--in any case, we shan't start foran hour. "

It was more than that before they finally got away. The delay was dueto waiting for the visitor, whose toilet was a lengthy proceeding. Whenat length he sauntered out, in blissful ignorance of the fact that hehad been keeping them waiting, no one could have found fault with hisclothes--a riding suit of very English cut, with immensely baggybreeches, topped by an immaculately folded stock, and a smart tweedcap. 

"That feller plenty new, " said black Billy, gazing at him withastonishment. 

Mr. Linton chuckled as he swung Norah to her saddle. 

"Let's hope his horsemanship is equal to his attire!"

Norah smiled in answer. Bobs was dancing with impatience, and shewalked him round and round, keeping an eye on her cousin. 

A steady brown mare had been saddled for Cecil--one of the "generalutility" horses to be found on every station. He cast a critical eyeover her as he approached, glancing from her to the horses of his uncleand cousin. Brown Betty was a thoroughly good stamp of a stock horse, with plenty of quality; while not, perhaps, of the class of Monarch andBobs, she was by no means a mount to be despised. That Cecildisapproved of her, however, was evident. There was a distinct curl onhis lip as he gathered up the reins. However, he mounted without aword, and they set off in pursuit of Murty O'Toole, the head stockman, who was already halfway to the cutting-out paddock. 

The Clover Paddock of Billabong was famous--a splendid stretch ofperfect green, where the cattle moved knee-deep in fragrant blossomingclovers, with pink and white flowers starring the wide expanse. At oneend it was gently undulating plain, towards the other it came down in agradual slope to the river, where tall gums gave an evergreen shelterfrom winter gales or summer heat. The cattle were under them as theriders came up--great, splendid Shorthorns, the aristocracy of theirkind, their roan sides sleek, their coats in perfect condition, and asprinkling of smaller bullocks whose inferiority in size wascompensated by their amazing fatness. It was evident that this weekthere would be no difficulty in making up the draft for the Melbournemarket. 

The cattle were mustered into one herd; no racing or hastening now, butwith the gentle consideration one should extend to the dignified andportly. They moved lazily, as if conscious of their own value. Cecil, hurrying a red-and-white bullock across a little flat, was met by aglare from Murty O'Toole, and a muttered injunction to "go aisy wid'em, " followed by a remark that "clo'es like thim was only fit to gomustherin' turkeykins in!" Luckily the latter part of the outbreak wasunheard by Cecil, who was quite sufficiently injured at the first, andfavoured Murty with a lofty stare that had the effect of throwing theIrishman and black Billy into secret convulsions of mirth. 

Norah rode not far from her father as they brought the cattle out intothe open and to the cutting-out camp--a spot where the beaten groundshowed that very often before such scenes had been enacted. Thebullocks knew it, and huddled there contentedly enough in a compactbody, while slowly Mr. Linton and Murty rode about them, singling outthe primest. Once marked down, O'Toole would slip between the bullockand his mates and edge him away, where Billy took charge of him, preventing his returning to the mob. With the first two or three thiswas not quite easy: but once a few were together they gave littletrouble, feeding about calmly: and generally a bullock cut out from themain body would trot quite readily across to the others. 

Privately, Cecil Linton thought it remarkably dull work. All that hehad read of station life was unlike this. He had had visions of farmore exciting doings--mad gallops and wild cattle, thoroughbred horses, kangaroo hunts and a score of other delights. Instead, all he had to dowas to tail after a lot of sleepy bullocks and then watch them sortedout by some men whose easy-going ways were unlike anything he hadimagined. He had no small opinion of his riding, and he yearned fordistinction. The very sight of Norah, leaning a little forward, keenness on every line of her face, was an offence to him. He could seenothing whatever to be keen about. Yawning, he lit a cigarette. 

Just then a bullock was cut out and pointed in the way he should go. Helumbered easily past black Billy, apparently quite contented with hisfate; and Billy, seeing another following, gave a crack of his whip tospeed him on his way, and turned to deal with the newcomer. The firstbullock became immediately seized with a spirit of mischief. Heflourished his heels in the air, turned at right angles and made offtowards the river at a gallop. 

Cecil, busy with his cigarette, saw Norah sit up suddenly and tightenher hand on the bridle. Simultaneously Bobs was off like a shot--tearingover the paddock a little wide of the fugitive. The race was a shortone. Passing the bullock, the bay pony and his rider swung in sharplyand the lash of Norah's whip shot out. The bullock stopped short, shaking his head; then, as the whip spoke again, he wheeled and trottedback meekly to the smaller mob. Behind him Norah cantered slowly. Thework of cutting out had not paused and no one seemed to notice theincident. But Cecil saw his uncle smile across at the little girl, andcaught the look in Norah's eyes as she smiled back. She and Bobs tookup their station again, silently watchful. 

Cecil was fired with ambition. Norah's small service had seemed to himridiculously easy; still, insignificant though everyone appeared toregard it, it was better than doing nothing. He had not the faintestdoubt of his own ability, and the idea that riding in a decorous suburbmight not fit him for all equine emergencies he would have scouted. Hegathered up his reins, and waited anxiously for another beast to breakaway. 

One obliged him presently; a big shorthorn that decided he had stayedlong enough in the mob, and suddenly made up his mind to seek anotherscene. Norah had already started in pursuit when she saw her cousinsend his spurs home in Betty, and charge forward. So she pulled up theindignant Bobs, who danced, and left the field to Cecil. 

Betty took charge of affairs from the outset. There was no move in allthe cattle-game that she did not understand. Moreover, she was justlyindignant at the spur-thrust, which attention only came her way ingreat emergencies; and the heavy hand on her mouth was gall andwormwood to her. But ahead was a flying bullock, and she was a stockhorse, which was sufficient for Betty. 

"That feller brown mare got it all her own way!" said Billy, indelight. 

She had. Cecil, bumping a little in the saddle, had no very clear ideaof how things were going. He had a moment of amazement that the quietmare he had despised could make such a pace. Once he tried to steadyher, but at that instant Betty was not to be steadied. She galloped on, and Cecil, recovering some of his self-possession, began to think thatthis was the thing whereof he had dreamed. 

The bullock was fat and scant of breath. It did not take him very longto conclude that he had had enough, especially when he heard the hoofsbehind him. It was sad, for close before him was the shade of the treesand the murmur of the river; but discretion is ever the better part ofvalour, particularly if one be not only valorous but fat. He pulled upshort. Betty propped without a second's hesitation, and swung round. 

To Cecil it seemed that the world had dropped from under him--and thenrisen to meet him. The brown mare turned, in the bush idiom, "on asixpence, " but Cecil did not turn. He went on. The onlookers had avision of the mare chopping round, as duty bade her, to head off thebullock, while at right-angles a graceful form in correct Englishgarments hurtled through the air in an elegant curve. When he camedown, which seemed to be not for some time, it was into a shady clumpof wild raspberries--and only those who know the Victorian wildraspberry know how clinging and intrusive are its hooked thorns. Twolegs kicked wildly. There was no sound. 

When the rescuing party extricated Cecil from his involuntary botanicalresearches he was a sorry sight. His clothes were torn in many places, and his face and hands badly scratched, while the red stains of theraspberries had turned his light tweeds into something resembling animpressionist sketch. It was perhaps excusable that he had altogetherlost his temper. He burst out in angry abuse of the mare, the bullock, the raspberry clump, and the expedition in general--anger which thescarcely concealed grins of the stockmen only served to intensify. Norah, who had choked with laughter at first, but had becomesympathetic as soon as she saw the boy's face, extracted numerousthorns from his person and clothing, and murmured words of regret, which fell on unheeding ears. Finally his uncle lost patience. 

"That'll do Cecil, " he said. "Everyone comes to grief occasionally--takeyour gruel like a man. Come on, Norah. Murty's waiting. " Saying which, he put Norah up, and they rode off, while Billy held the brown mare'srein for Cecil, who mounted sulkily. Something in his uncle's faceforbade his replying. But in his heart came the beginning of a grudgeagainst the Bush, Billabong in general, and Norah in particular. Lateron, he promised himself, there might come a chance to work it off. 

For the present, however, there was nothing to be done but nurse hisscratches and his grievance; so he sat sulkily on Betty, and took nofurther active part in the morning's work, the consciousness of actinglike a spoilt child not tending to improve his temper. Nobody took anynotice of him. One by one the bullocks were cut out, until betweentwenty and thirty were ready, and then the main mob was left to wanderslowly back to the river, while O'Toole and Billy started with theothers to the paddock at the end of the run, which was their firststage in the seventeen-mile journey to the trucking yards at Cunjee. They moved off peacefully through the blossoming clover. 

"Luckily they don't be afther knowin' what's ahead av thim!" saidMurty. He lifted his battered felt hat to Norah, as he rode away. 

"We'll go down and see how high the river is before we go home, " saidMr. Linton. 

So they rode down to the river, commented on the unusual amount ofwater for so late in the year, inspected the drinking places, paid avisit to a beast in another paddock, which had been sick, but was nowapparently in rude health, and finally cantered home to lunch. Brownieprudently refrained from comment on Cecil's scratched countenance, further than to supply him with large quantities of hot water in hisroom, together with a small pair of pliers, which she remarked were'andy things for prickles. Under this varied treatment Cecil becamemore like himself, and recovered his spirits, though a soreness yetremained at the thought of the little girl who had done so easily whathe had failed so ignominiously in trying to do. He decided definitelyin his own mind that he did not like Norah. 

CHAPTER V

TWO POINTS OF VIEW

 You found the Bush was dismal, and a land of no delight-- Did you chance to hear a chorus in the shearers' nut at night? A. B. PATERSON. 

"Dear Mater, --Arrived at Cunjee safely, and, thanks to the way you fixedup things, found no one to meet me, as Uncle David thought I would notarrive until next day. However, a friendly yokel gave me a lift out toBillabong in a very dirty and springless buggy, so that the mistake wasnot a fatal one, though it gave me a very uncomfortable drive. 

"The place is certainly very nice, and the house comfortable, though, of course, it is old-fashioned. I prefer more modern furniture; butUncle David seems to think his queer old chairs and table all that canbe desired, and did not appear interested when I told him where we gotour things. I have a large room, rather draughty, but otherwisepleasant, with plenty of space for clothes, which is a comfort. I dothink it's intensely annoying to be expected to keep your clothes inyour trunk. The view is nice. 

"Uncle David seemed quite prepared to treat me as a small boy, but Ifancy I have demonstrated to him that I know my way about--in fact, asfar as city life goes, I should say he knew exceedingly little. I can'tunderstand any man with money being content to live and die in a holelike this out-of-the-way place: but I suppose, as you say, Aunt Helen'sdeath made a difference. Actually, they have not even one motor! andwhen I spoke of it Uncle David seemed almost indignant, and said horseswere good enough for him. That is a specimen of the way they arecontent to live. He seems quite idiotically devoted to the small child, and she lives in his pocket. If she weren't so countrified in her waysshe wouldn't be bad looking; but, of course, she is quite the bushyoungster, and, I should think, would find her level pretty quicklywhen she goes to school among a lot of smart Melbourne girls. I shouldhope so, at any rate, for she is quite spoilt here. It is exactly asyou said--everyone treats her like a sort of tin god, and she evidentlythinks herself someone, and is inclined to regard those older thanherself quite as equals. When I first saw her she had just fallen intosome mud hole, and her appearance would have given you a fit. But whatcan you expect?

"The fat old cook is still here, and asked after you. It's absolutelyridiculous to see the way she is treated--quite considers herself themistress of the place, and when I told her one morning to let me havemy shaving water she was almost rude. I think if there's one thingsillier than another it's the sort of superstition some people haveabout old servants. 

"So far I find it exceedingly dull, and don't feel very hopeful thatthings will be much better when Jim comes home. Of course, he may beimproved, but he appeared to me a great overgrown animal when I lastsaw him, without an idea in his head beyond cricket and football. Idon't feel that he will be any companion to me. He will probably sufferbadly from swelled head, too, as every one is making a fuss about hisreturn. So quaint, to see the sort of mutual admiration that goes onhere. 

"I have had some riding, being given a horse much inferior to eitherUncle David's or Norah's--the latter rides like a jockey, and, ofcourse, astride, which I consider very ungraceful. She turns out well, however, and all her get-up is good--her habits come from a Melbournetailor. I think I will get some clothes in Melbourne on my way back;they may not have newer ideas, but it may be useful for purposes ofcomparison with the Sydney cut. My riding clothes were evidently asource of much wonderment and admiration to the yokels. Unfortunatelythey have become badly stained with some confounded raspberry juice, and though I left them out for Mrs. Brown to clean, she has not done soyet. 

"Well, there is no news to be got in a place like this; we never goout, except on the run, and there seems absolutely no society. Thelocal doctor came out yesterday, in a prehistoric motor, but I foundhim very uninteresting. Of course, one has no ideas in common withthese Bush people. Where the 'Charm of the Bush' comes in is more thanI can see--I much prefer Town on a Saturday morning to all Billabong andits bullocks. They wanted me to go out one night and--fancy!--help burndown dead trees; but, really, I jibbed on that. There is no billiardroom. Uncle David intends building one when Jim comes home for good, but that certainly won't be in my time here. I fancy a very few weekswill see me back in town. 

"No bridge played here, of course! Have you had any luck that way?

"Your affectionate son, "CECIL AUBREY LINTON. "

Cecil blotted the final sheet of his letter home, and sat back with asigh of satisfaction, as one who feels his duty nobly done. He stampedit, strolled across the hall to deposit it in the post box which stoodon the great oak table, and then looked round for something to do. 

It was afternoon, and all was very quiet. Mr. Linton had ridden offwith a buyer to inspect cattle, Norah ruefully declining to accompanyhim. 

"I'm awfully sorry, Dad, " she had said, "But I'm too busy. "

"Busy, are you? What at?"

"Oh, cooking and things, " Norah had answered. "Brownie's not very well, and I said I'd help her--there's a lot to do just now, you know. " Shestood on tiptoe to kiss her father. "Good-bye, Dad--don't be too long, will you? And take care of yourself!"

Cecil also had declined to go out, giving "letters to write" as areason. The truth was that several rides had told on the town youth, whose seat in the saddle was not easy enough to prevent his becomingstiff and sore. Bush people are used to this peculiarity in cityvisitors, and, while regarding the sufferers with sympathy, generallyprescribe a "hair of the dog that bit them"--more riding--as the quickestcure; which Cecil would certainly have thought hard-hearted in theextreme. However, nothing would have induced him to say that he hadfelt the riding, since Cecil belonged to that class of boy that hatesto admit inferiority to others. So he suffered in silence, creakedmiserably at his uprising and down-sitting, and was happily unawarethat everyone in Billabong knew perfectly well what was the matter withhim. 

Cecil and his mother were very good friends in the cool, polite waythat was distinctive of them. They "fitted" together admirably, and asa general rule held the same views, the one on which they were most inaccord being the belief in Cecil's own superior talents andcharacteristics. He wrote to her just as he would have talked, certainof her absolute agreement. When his letter was finished he felt muchrelieved at having, as Jim said, "got it off his chest. " Not that Cecilwould ever have said anything so inelegant. 

Sarah crossed the hall at the moment, carrying a tray of silver to becleaned, and he called to her--

"Where is Norah?"

"Miss Norah's in the kitchen, " said the girl shortly. The Billabongmaids were no less independent than modern maids generally are, butthey had their views about the city gentleman's manner to the daughterof the house. "On'y a bit of a kid himself, " Mary had said to Sarah, indignantly, "but any one'd think he owned the earth, an' Miss Norahwas a bit of it. " So they despised Cecil exceedingly, and refrainedfrom shaking up his mattress when they made his bed. 

"Er--you may tell her I want to speak to her. "

"Can't, I'm afraid, " Sarah said. "Miss Norah's very busy, 'elpin' Mrs. Brown. She don't care to be disturbed. "

"Can't she spare me a moment?"

"Wouldn't ask her to. " Sarah lifted her tray--and her nose--and marchedout. Cecil looked black. 

"Gad! I wish the mater had to deal with those girls!" he saidviciously--Mrs. Geoffrey Linton was of the employers who "change theirmaids" with every new moon. "She'd make them sit up, I'll wager. Abominable impertinence!" He strolled to the door, and looked outacross the garden discontentedly. "What on earth is there for a man todo? Well, I'll hunt up the important cousin. "

At the moment, Norah was quite of importance. Mrs. Brown had succumbedto a headache earlier in the day. Norah had found her, white-faced andmiserable, bending over a preserving pan full of jam, waiting for themystical moment when it should "jell. " Ordered to rest, poor Browniehad stoutly refused--was there not more baking to be done, impossible toput off, to say nothing of the jam? A brisk engagement had ensued, fromwhich Norah had emerged victorious, the reins of government in herhands for the day. Brownie, still protesting, had been put on her bedwith a handkerchief steeped in eau-de-Cologne on her throbbingforehead, and Norah had returned to the kitchen to varied occupations. 

The jam had behaved beautifully; had "jelled" in the most satisfactorymanner, just the right colour; now it stood in a neat array of jars ona side table, waiting to be sealed and labelled when cold. Then, afterlunch, Norah had plunged into the mysteries of pastry, and wasconsiderably relieved when her mince pies turned out very closely akinto those of Brownie, which were famous. Puddings for dinner hadfollowed, and were now cooling in the dairy. Finally, the joint beingin the oven, and vegetables prepared, the cook had compounded Jim'sfavourite cake, which was now baking; during which delicate operation, with a large dab of flour on her nose, the cook sat at the table, andwrote a letter. 

"DEAR OLD JIM, --This must be in pencil, 'cause I'm watching a cakethat's in the oven, and I'm awfully scared of it burning, so I don'tdare to go for the ink. Dad said I was to write and tell you we wouldmeet you on Wednesday, unless we heard from you again. We are allawfully glad and excited about you coming. I'm sure Tait and Puckunderstand, 'cause I told them to-day, and they barked like anything. Your room is all right, and we've put in another cupboard. We're all sosorry about Wally not coming, but we hope he will come later on. Domake him. 

"Dad and I aren't talking about me going to school. It can't be helped, and it only makes you jolly blue to talk about it. 

"Cecil's come, and he's the queerest specimen of a boy I ever saw. He'sawfully grown up, but he's small and terribly swagger. His ridingclothes are gorgeous, and you mustn't laugh at them. Dad did, but itwas into Bobs' mane. He came with us cutting-out, and Betty was toogood for him, swinging round, so he came a lovely cropper into somewild raspberries. It was so funny no one could have helped laughing, and he wasn't really hurt, only prickled and very wild. I am afraid heisn't enjoying himself very much, but of course he will be all rightwhen you come. It's jolly hard to entertain him, 'cause he isn't a bitkeen about anything. He has a tremendous array of shaving tackle. Andhe has a hand glass. Do you think he will lend it to you to see yourback hair?

"Bobs is just lovelier than ever. I never knew him go so well as he isnow, and he perfectly loves a jump. Dad has a new horse he callsMonarch, and he is a beauty, he is black with a star. OF COURSE, don'tsay anything about Cecil's spill to anybody, he could not help it. Andhe had a much bigger laugh at me, 'cause I fell into the lagoon the dayhe came. I will tell you all about it when you come. 

"The place is looking lovely, and hasn't dried up a bit--"

An unfamiliar step came along the passage, and Norah sat up abruptlyfrom the labours of composition, and then with promptness concealed herletter under a cookery book. 

"Why Cecil! How did you find your way here?"

"Oh--looked about me. I had finished my writing, and there was nothingto do. "

"I'm so sorry, " Norah said contritely. "You see, Brownie's sick, andI'm on duty here. "

"You!" said Cecil, with a laugh. "And what can YOU do in a kitchen?"

Norah blushed at the laugh more than at the words. 

"Oh, you'll get some sort of a dinner, " she said. "Don't be toocritical, that's all. "

"What, you really can cook? Or do you play at it?"

"Well, there are mighty few girls in the Bush who can't cook a bit, "Norah said. "Of course we're lucky, having Brownie--but you really nevercan tell as a rule when you may have to turn to in the kitchen. Dadsays it's one of the beauties of Australia!"

"Can't say I like the idea of a lady in the kitchen, " quoth Cecilloftily. 

"Can't say I'd like to be one who was scared of it, " Norah said. "And Iguess you'd get very bored if you had to go without your dinner!" Sheseized a cloth and opened the oven door gingerly, and made highlytechnical experiments with her cake, rising presently, somewhatflushed. "Ten minutes more, " she said, with an air of satisfaction. "And, as Brownie would say, 'he's rose lovely. ' Have some tea, Cecil?"

Cecil assented, and watched the small figure in the voluminous whiteapron as she flitted about the kitchen. 

"I like having tea here, " Norah confided to him. "Then I use Brownie'steapot, and don't you always think tea tastes miles better out of abrown pot? You won't get the proper afternoon cups either--I hope youdon't mind?" She stopped short, with a sudden sense of talking alanguage altogether foreign to this bored young man in correct attire;and a rush of something like irritation to think how different Jim orWally would have been--she could almost see Wally sitting on the edge ofthe table, with a huge cup of tea in one hand, a scone in the other, and his thin, eager face alight with cheerfulness. Cecil was certainlyheavy in the hand. She sighed, but bent manfully to her task again. 

"You take sugar, don't you? And cream? Yes, you ought to have cream, 'cause you've been ill. " She dashed into the pantry, returning with asmall jug. "The cake's not mine, so I can recommend it; but if you'renot frightened you can have one of my mince pies. "

"Thanks, I'd rather have cake, " said Cecil. , and again Norah flushed athis tone, but she laughed. 

"It's certainly safer, " she agreed, "I'm sure Brownie thought it was ahideous risk to leave the pies to me. " She supplied her cousin withcake, and retreated to the oven. 

"Why don't you let one of the girls do this?" he asked. 

"Sarah or Mary? Oh, they're as busy as ever they can be, " explainedNorah. "We always do a lot of extra cleaning and rubbing up beforeChristmas, and they haven't a moment. Of course they'd do it in aminute, if I asked them, but I wouldn't--as it is, Sarah's going to dishup for me. They're the nicest girls; I'm going to take them tea as soonas I get my cake out!"

"You!" said Cecil. "You don't mean to say you're going to cart tea tothe servants?"

"I'd be a perfect pig if I didn't, " Norah said, shortly. "I'm afraidyou don't understand the bush a bit, Cecil. "

"Thank goodness I don't then, " said Cecil, stiffly. "Who's that trayfor?"

"Brownie, of course. " Norah was getting a little ruffled--criticism likethis had not come to her. 

"Well, I think it's extraordinary--and so would my mother, " Cecil said, with an air of finality. 

"I suppose a town is different, " said Norah, striving after patience. "We like to look after everyone here--and I think it's grand wheneveryone's nice to everyone!" She paused; it was hard to be patient andgrammatical, too. 

"School will teach you a number of things, " said her cousin loftily. Herose and put down his cup. "A lady shouldn't lower herself. "

"Dad says a lady can't lower herself by work, " retorted Norah. "Anyhow, if taking tea to dear old Brownie's going to lower me, it'll have to, that's all!"

"You don't understand, " said Cecil. "A lady has her own place, and toget on terms of familiarity with the lower classes is bad for both herand them. " He looked and felt instructive. "It isn't exactly the actionthat counts--it's the spirit it fosters--er--the feeling--that is, the--er, in short, it's a mistake to--"

"Oh, please be careful, Cecil, you're sitting in some dough!"

Norah sprang forward anxiously, and instructiveness fell from Cecil asone sheds a garment. He had sat down on the edge of the table in theflow of his eloquence; now he jumped up angrily, and, mutteringunpleasant things, endeavored to remove dough from his person. Norahhovered round, deeply concerned. Pastry dough, however, is a clingingand a greasy product, and finally the wrathful lecturer beat a retreattowards the sanctuary of his own room, and the cook sat down and shookwith laughter. 

"My cake!" she gasped, in the midst of her mirth. She flew to the ovenand rescued Jim's delicacy. 

"Thank goodness, it's all right!" said she. Her mirth broke out afresh. 

A shadow darkened the doorway. 

"What--cooking and in hysterics?" said Mr. Linton. "May I have some tea?And what's the matter?"

"Cecil's begun the reforming process, " said his daughter, becomingsolemn with difficulty. "You've no idea how improved I am, Daddy! Heseems to be certain that I'm not a lady, and he's very doubtful if I'ma cook, so could you tell me what I'm likely to be?"

"A better all-round man than Cecil, I should hope, " said David Linton, with a sound like a snort of wrath. "Give me some tea, mate, and don'tbother your head about the future. Your old Dad's not scared!"

CHAPTER VI

COMING HOME

 The top of my desire Is just to meet a mate o' mine. HENRY LAWSON. 

It had suddenly become hot--"truly Christmas" weather, Norah called it, as she stood waiting on the Cunjee platform for a train which, inaccordance with all railway traditions at Christmas, was already overan hour late. Norah felt it hard that to-day, of all days in the year, it should be so--when Jim was actually coming home for good! At thethought of Jim's arrival she hopped cheerfully on one leg, completelyoblivious of onlookers, and looked up the shining line of rails for thethousand-and-first time. Would the old train never come?

"Aren't you contriving to keep warm, with the mercury trying to breakthe thermometer? Or do you dance merely because you feel like it?"asked a friendly voice; and Norah turned with a little flush ofpleasure to greet the Cunjee doctor. She and Dr. Anderson respectedeach other very highly. 

"Because I feel like it, I expect, " she said, laughing and shakinghands. 

"Which my wide professional experience leads me to diagnose as the factthat you're probably waiting for Jim!" said the doctor, gravely. "There's a certain hectic flush, an intermittent pulse, which convincesme of your painful state, when coupled with the restlessness of theeye. "

"Which eye?" asked Norah anxiously. 

"Both, " said the doctor. "Don't be flippant with your medical man. Sohe's really coming, Norah?"

"Yes, " said Norah, "and I don't care if I am excited--so'd you be, doctor. Billy's outside with the horses, and he's just as excited as Iam. "

"Billy!" said the doctor. "But he'd never say more than 'Plenty!' nomatter how excited he was. "

"No, of course not, but then he finds it such a useful word, " Norahsaid a little vaguely. She was peering up the rails. Suddenly she spunround, her face glowing. "There's the smoke--she's coming!"

Whatever additional remarks Dr. Anderson may have made fell on deafears, for Norah had no further ideas from that moment. The train cameinto view over the brow of the hill, and slid down the long slope intothe station, pulling up with a mighty grinding of brakes. Almost as itstopped a door was flung open violently, and a very tall boy with theGrammar School colours on his hat jumped out, cast a hurried glancearound, and then seized the small person in blue linen in an unashamedbear's hug. 

"Oh, Jim!" said Norah. "Oh, Jimmy--boy!"

"Well, old kiddie, " said Jim. "You all right? My word, I am glad to seeyou!"

"Me, too, " said Norah. "It's been just ages, Jim. "

"Hasn't it?" Jim said. He started. "Oh, by Jove! There's someone elsehere!"

Norah wheeled round, and uttered a little cry of joy. Another boy withthe dark-blue hat band was grinning at her in most friendly fashion--athin, brown-faced boy, with especially merry dark eyes. Norah's handswent out. 

"Wally! But, how lovely! I thought you couldn't come. "

"So did I, " said Wally Meadows, pumping her hands vigorously. "I wasgoing home, but my aunt obligingly got measles. I'm awfully sorry forAunt. But it's an ill-wind that blows nowhere--old Jim took pity on me, and here I am!"

"I should think so, " Norah said. "We haven't felt a bit completewithout you. Dad was saying only this morning how sorry he was youcouldn't come. He'll get such a shock! Oh, it's so lovely to have youtwo--and isn't it getting like Christmas! I'm so happy!" She jigged onone foot, regardless of interested faces watching her from the train. 

"You've grown about a foot, " said Jim, patting her on the shoulder. "Pretty thin, too--sure you're all right?"

Norah reassured him, laughing. 

"Well, you look awfully fit, if you are thin, " was Jim's comment. "Doesn't she, Wally?"

"Never saw her look fitter, " said Wally. "I'm glad as five bob Aunt gotthe measles! Oh, what a beast I am--but, you know what I mean! Jim, thistrain'll go on, and we've fifty million things in the carriage!"

"So we have!" Jim said, hurriedly, taking his hand from Norah'sshoulder and diving after his chum into the compartment they hadquitted. They emerged laden with suitcases, parcels, rackets, fishingrods, golf sticks and other miscellaneous impedimenta. 

"Catch!" Jim said, tossing a big box into Norah's hands. 

"Chocolates!" said Norah blissfully. "Jim, you're an angel!"

"Always knew that, " her brother replied, dropping his load on theplatform with a cheerful disregard of what might break. "Come on, Wally, we'll get the heavy things out of the van. You watch those, Nor. Who's in, by the way? And where's Dad?"

"Dad's in Cunjee; but he had business, and he couldn't wait at thestation, the train was so late. Cecil's with him--they're both riding. I've got the light buggy with the ponies for you, and Billy's drivingthe express for your luggage and heaps of things that Brownie wants forthe house. " Norah spoke in one breath and finished with a gasp. 

"Guess people must have thought you were a circus procession!" wasJim's comment. "All right, we'll cart the things out to Billy. "

Out at the bid express-wagon drawn by a pair of greys, Billy stood, welcoming them with a smile on his dusky countenance that Wally likenedto a slit in a coconut. The luggage was piled in with specialinjunctions to the black boy not to put the bags of flour on anythingthat looked delicate--whereat Billy's smile widened to a grin, and hemurmured "Plenty!" delightedly. 

"That's the lot, " Jim said. "The buggy's at the hotel, I suppose, Norah?"

"Yes--and we're to have lunch there with Dad. And you've got to beawfully polite to Cecil!"

"Cecil!" said Jim, lifting his nose. "If Cecil's anything like what heused to be--" He did not finish the sentence. 

"Do we play with Cecil?" Wally asked, grinning. 

"The question is, if Cecil will condescend to play with you, " Norahsaid. "He thinks ME too much of a kid to look at--"

"Oh, does he?" asked Jim resentfully. 

"But you're both ever so much bigger than he is, so perhaps he'll letyou love him!" Norah finished. 

"I'm relieved to my soul, " said Wally, with gravity. "Visions of myunrequited affection poured out on Cecil have been troubling my restfor days. May I kiss him?"

"I'd wait a little while, I think, " Norah answered. "He may be shy--notthat we've found it out yet. Indeed, he's the unshyest person I evermet. "

"Is he very awful, Nor?"

"Oh, he's a bit of a drawback, " Norah said. "Dad says he's not bad atheart, only so spoilt--and he's just terribly bumptious, Jim, and thinkshe can do everything; and his clothes are lovely! He isn't caring forme a bit to-day, 'cause he gave me a broad hint that he wanted to rideBobs, and I didn't take it. "

"Ride Bobs!" exclaimed Jim, in amazement. "Well, I should think youdidn't!"

"Well, I felt rather a pig, considering he's our guest, " Norah said, alittle contritely. "If it were you or Wally, now--but he's really got anawful seat, Jim, and Murty says he's a hand like a ham on a horse'smouth! I didn't feel I could let him have Bobs. "

"Bobs is your very special property--no one but an ass would ask forhim, and I told Cecil last year you were the only person who ever rodehim, " said Jim indignantly. "Surely there are enough horses on theplace without him wanting to collar your pony!"

"Well, he didn't get him, " said Norah, tranquilly, "so that's all rightand you needn't worry, Jimmy. I do think, if only one could get him offhis high horse, he wouldn't be at all bad--perhaps he'll thaw now youboys are here. I hope he will, for his own sake, 'cause he'd have sucha much better time. "

"Well, if he's going to be patronizing--" Jim began. 

"Ah, perhaps he won't--I don't believe he could try to patronize you!"Norah glanced lovingly at her tall brother. "You're nearly as big asDad, Jimmy, aren't you? and Wally's going to be too. "

"Ill weeds grow apace, " quoted the latter gentleman solemnly. "Jim's asplendid example of that proverb. "

"M'f!" said Norah. "How about yourself?"

"I'm coming up as a flower!" Wally replied modestly. "A Christmas lily, I should think!"--whereat Jim murmured something that sounded "More likean artichoke!" His exact remark, however, was lost, for at that momentthey arrived at the hotel, just as Mr. Linton emerged from it, and Jimquickened his pace, his face alight. 

"Dad!"

"Well, my boy!" They gripped hands, and David Linton's eye kindled asit dwelt on the big fellow. "Glad to have you back, old son. Why--Wally!"

"Turned up like a bad penny, sir, " said Wally, having his hand pumpedin turn. "Hope you'll forgive me--it's pretty cool to arrive without aninvitation. "

"As far as I know, you had invitations from all the family, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. "We regard you as one of the oldest inhabitants now, you know. At any rate, I'm delighted to see you; the mistress ofBillabong must answer for herself, but she doesn't look cast down!"

"She's been fairly polite, " Wally said. "On the whole I don't feel asshy as I was afraid of feeling! I was horribly scared of havingChristmas with my aunt--but she's chosen measles instead, so I expectshe was just as scared as I was!"

"It's probable, " said his host, laughing. 

"You haven't grown up a bit, Wally, and it's such a comfort!" Norahsaid. 

"I'm getting old and reverend, " said Wally severely, "and it's up toyou to treat me with respect, young Norah. Sixteen's an awful age tosupport with any cheerfulness. " His brown face at the moment gave theimpression of never having been serious during the sixteen years helamented. "As for this ancient mariner"--indicating Jim--"you can see thesigns of senile decay quite plainly!"

"Ass!" said Jim affectionately. He broke off. "How are you, Cecil?"

Cecil, coming out of the hotel, a dapper figure beside the two tallschoolboys, gave languid greetings. He cast at Jim a glance ofsomething like envy. Height was the one thing he longed for, and itseemed to him hard that this seventeen-year-old youngster should berapidly approaching six feet, while he, three years older, had stoppedshort six inches under that measurement. However, generally speaking, Cecil was uncommonly well satisfied with himself, and not even thecontemplation of Jim's superior inches could worry him for long. Heasked polite questions about the journey, and laughed at the freelyexpressed opinion that the day was hot "You should go to Sydney if youwant to know what heat is, " he said, with the superiority of thetravelled man; "Victoria really has no heat to talk about!"

"Well, I'm a Queenslander, " said Wally bluntly, "and we're supposed toknow about heat there. And I do think to-day is beastly hot--look at mycollar, it's like a concertina! Sydney heat is hot, and Brisbane heatis hotter, but Victorian heat has a hotness all of its own!" Whereateverybody laughed, and the discussion was adjourned for lunch. 

It was a merry meal; and if the fare was no better than that of mosttownship hotels, the spirits of the party were too high to troubleabout such trifles as tough meat, watery puddings, and weary butterthat bore out Wally's remarks about the heat by threatening to floataway on a sea of its own oil. Everything was rose colour in Norah'sestimation that day. She sat by Jim and beamed across the table at herfather and Wally. Even Cecil found himself at times included in thebeam, and took it meekly, for the happy face was infectious, while thefrank delight of the boys in having her with them again was to acertain extent educational to the outsider. There was no lack ofmanliness in Jim's strong, handsome face. If he found it worth hiswhile, Cecil reflected, to make such a fuss over a child, it might bepossible that she was not altogether a person to be snubbed. So he wasunusually affable to his small cousin, and lunch passed off verysuccessfully. 

Afterwards there was shopping to be done. A long list of groceries hadbeen made out by Mrs. Brown, who professed herself far too busy withChristmas preparations to come in person, and had laid theresponsibility on Norah, not without misgivings. It was, perhaps, fortunate that the storekeepers were able to rise to the contents ofthe list unaided, for Norah was scarcely in a condition to grapple withproblems relating to anything so ordinary as groceries, and found itindeed difficult to read out her list coherently, with Jim standingsentinel in the doorway and Wally wandering about the shop sampling allhe could find, from biscuits to brooms. On one occasion, when making aspecial effort to preserve her dignity, she came to the item "flakedoatmeal, " and asked the shopman in rather frigid tones for "flokedatemeal, " which had a paralysing effect on the unoffending storekeeper, while Wally retired to the shelter of a pile of saucepans, andshrieked. Thus the business of necessary purchases passed offcheerfully; and then what Norah termed the more interestingshops--saddlers' and stationers'--were visited, with a view to Christmas. Finally Jim brought the buggy from the hotel, and they picked up theirlighter parcels. 

"Surely that's all?" Jim inquired, as Norah and Wally came out of thefruiterer's laden with bags of assorted sizes, which they dumpedthankfully into the buggy, with the immediate result that a bag ofpeaches burst, and had to be rescued from all over the floor. "Nor. , you'll not have a penny left, and we'll all be violently ill if we eathalf you've bought. Come on home. "

"Brownie's laid in large stocks of medicine, she says, " Norah answered, tranquilly, climbing into the buggy. "So you needn't worry, need you?But we've truly finished now, Jim, I think. Ready, Wally?"

"Quite, " said Wally cheerfully. "I've put these peaches in with theneatsfoot oil, and it seems a beautiful arrangement!" He hopped upnimbly. "Right oh, Jimmy, and pray remember I am nervous!"

"I will, " Jim grinned. He laid the whip on the ponies' backs, and theyshot forward with a bound, unused to such liberties. They went down themain street of Cunjee in a whirl of dust, and turned over the bridgespanning the river, where the ponies promptly rose on their hind legsat the sight of Dr. Anderson's motor, and betrayed a rooteddisinclination to come down from that unusual altitude. Jim handledthem steadily, and presently they were induced to face the snortinghorror, wherein the doctor sat, waving his hand and calling cheeryChristmas greetings as they shot past, to which the three respondedenthusiastically. Cunjee sank into the distance behind them. 

The miles flew past. On the metalled road the rubbered tyres spunsilently, and only the flying hoofs clattered and soon they had leftthe made road and turned on to the hard-beaten track that led toBillabong, where progress was even smoother. The tongues flew almost asswiftly as the wheels. The hot sun sank gradually, and the eveningbreeze sprang up. It was a time for quick questions and answers. Norahwanted details of the term just over, the sports, the prize-giving, andhad to laugh over messages from those of Jim's boy friends whom sheknew; and Jim had a hundred things to ask about home--the cattle, thefishing, his horses, his dogs, "Brownie, " and the prospects of funahead. They roared over her ducking and subsequent encounter withCecil, and chaffed her unmercifully. 

"Such a mud-lark!" said Wally, with glee. "And that prim young man! Oh, Norah, you are a dream! I'd have given something to see your face. "

"I was altogether worth seeing, " Norah remarked modestly. "When Icaught sight of myself in a glass I really didn't wonder at Cecil. " ButJim glowered and referred to the absent Cecil as a "silly ass. "

They turned in at last at the homestead gate, and the ponies fairlyflew up the long paddock, something in the spirits of their driverscommunicating itself to them. The house was not visible until the trackhad passed through a thick belt of trees, and as they came to this Jimfell silent, looking keenly ahead. Then the red roof came into view andthe boy drew a long breath. 

"There's the old place, " he said. "My word, I am glad to be home!"

Under the dust-rug Norah slipped her hand on to his knee. 

"It's just lovely to have you--both of you. " she added. "You're glad, too, aren't you, Wally?"

"I could sing!" said Wally. 

"Once, " said Jim, "you could. But for some years--"

"Beast!" said Wally. "If you weren't driving--"

"And you weren't nervous--!" grinned his chum. 

"There'd be wigs on the green, " finished Norah, cheerfully. "I'lldrive, if it would be any convenience to either of you. "

"We'll postpone it, " said Jim. "There's Brownie at the gate, bless herold heart!"

They shot up the last furlong of the drive. At the big gate of theyard--very few people, not even bishops, go to the front gate of a Bushhomestead--Brownie stood, her broad face beaming. As they pulled up, Murty O'Toole came forward to take the horses--a marked compliment fromMurty, who, like most head stockmen, was a free and independent soul. 

Jim went over the wheel with a bound, and seized Brownie's hand. 

"How are you, Brownie, dear?"

"The size of him!" said she. "The shoulders. No wonder they 'ad you forcaptin of the football eleven, then, my dear!" The boys grinned widely. "If not eleven, then it's four, " said Brownie placidly. "Strange, Ican't never remember which, an' it don't sinnerfy, any'ow. Welkim'ome--an' you too, Master Wally. "

"How are you, Murty?" Jim shook hands with the stockman, while Wallybowed low over Brownie's hand. 

"I've lived for this moment, " he said, fervently. "Brownie, you growyounger every time I go away!"

"Naturally!" said Norah from the buggy. 

"Be silent, minx!" said Wally, over his shoulder. "Who are you to breakin on a heart-to-heart talk, anyhow? At this present moment, Mrs. Brown, you look seventeen!"

"Get along with you, now, do!" said the delighted Brownie. "You're nobetter than you was, I'm afraid, Master Wally--alwuz ready for yourjoke!"

"Joke!" exclaimed he, indignantly. "Any one who'd make a joke of you, Brownie, would rob a church. Jim might, but I--"

"Perish the idea!" said Jim, tipping the orator's hat over his eyes. "Come and take things out of the buggy. "

Across the yard came Mr. Linton, surrounded by a mixed assemblage ofdogs. Puck and the collie had already hurled themselves upon Jim in adelirium of joy. Cecil strolled after his uncle, looking slightlyamused at the scene by the gate. 

"We're quite a family, " Mr. Linton said. "I begin to feel like Mr. Pickwick at a Christmas gathering! Do you think Billabong will standthe crowd, Mrs. Brown?"

"It looks to me, sir, " said Mrs. Brown contentedly, "as if Billabong'sgoin' to 'ave the time of its life!"

CHAPTER VII

JIM UNPACKS

 Holler-days Were made for boys to holler!

Jim's room was a rather vast place, with two long windows opening uponthe balcony, two exceedingly plain iron bedsteads in different corners, and in the midst a wide, vacant space, where a punching-ball was fixedwhenever the owner was at home. There was a very shabby old leatherarmchair by one window, and near the other an even shabbier leathercouch, very wide and solid. Jim used to declare that they were the mostcomfortable in the house, and nothing would have induced him to havethem altered in any way. 

One wall held a medley of various articles: Jim's rifle, the sportinggun his father had given him when he was fifteen, a revolver that hadbeen through two wars, and a cavalry sword his grandfather had carried, together with an assortment of native weapons from variouscountries--assegais, spears, boomerangs, throwing sticks, sjamboks andSouth Sea Island clubs and shields. A special nail held Jim's ownstockwhip, to which Norah always attended after he had gone away, lestthe supple thong should become harsh through disuse. Then there wereweapons of peace--hockey sticks, rackets, cricket-bats--the latter anassortment of all Jim had used, from the tiny one he had begun with atthe age of eight to the full sized beauty that had split honourably inan inter-State school match the preceding summer. 

All over the other walls were plainly framed photographs. Mr. Lintonand Norah were there, in many positions, with and without horses; thenthere were pictures of all the favourite horses and ponies and dogs onthe place, and a big enlargement of Billabong house itself. The otherswere school photographs, mostly football and cricket teams, tennisfours, the school crew, and some large groups at the yearly sports. Innearly all you could find Jim himself--if you looked closely enough. Jimloathed being photographed, and always retired as far out of sight in agroup as his inches would permit. 

The room held many of Jim's own manufactured ideas--his "contraptions, "Brownie used to call them. There was a telephone he had rigged up whenhe was twelve, communicating with Norah's room by the balcony; andoutside was a sort of fire escape, by which he could--and generallydid--descend without using the stairs. There were various pieces of bushcarpentry--a table, a candlestick and a book-case of his ownconstruction, which in Norah's eyes were better than beautiful. Therewas an arrangement by which he could open his door or his windowswithout getting out of bed--which was ingenious, but quaint, since Jimwas never known to shut his windows, and very rarely his door. Altogether it was an interesting room, and very typical of Jim. 

At present it resembled a maelstrom, for Wally and Jim were unpacking. Brownie, putting in her head, described it as "a perfick shambles, " andaffected great horror at the havoc occasioned by having boys in thehouse--beaming all the while in a manner calculated to destroy theeffect of any lecture. Norah, perched on the end of the sofa, which wasthe only free spot in the room, looked on at the operations with deepinterest. Occasionally, when some special parcel was unearthed, one ofthe boys diverted her attention laboriously, since it was nearChristmas-time, which is ever a season of mysteries. The parcel stowedaway hastily in a cupboard, Norah was permitted to gaze once more, unrestricted. 

"What's that, Jim?" she asked, catching a glimpse of silver in therecesses of a suitcase. 

"Oh, nothing. "

"I believe it's your cup, " said his sister excitedly. "Do make him showme, Wally!"

"The mug it is!" said Wally, diving in under Jim's nose, and snatchingthe article in question. "Don't be an ass, Jimmy--d'you expect to keepit always in your boot-bag?"

"Very nice place for it, " Jim was understood to mutter. 

"Ripping--but you'll want it for your boots. Catch, Norah!"

The big silver cup flew across the room, and was deftly fielded by thelady on the end of the sofa. 

"Oh, isn't it a beauty!" she said delightedly. "Jimmy, I'm so proud toknow you!"

"You ought to have seen him going up to get it, " Wally said. "Lovelysight--he blushed so prettily!"

"Blush be hanged!" said the victim. 

"Don't be ashamed, my child; it's a very nice thing to be able toblush, " Wally grinned. "No one would ever dream you could, either, soit's a happy surprise as well!"

"There's not a blush about you, that's one thing, " said Jim, from thedepths of his big box. 

"Wore out all my powers that way blushing over you!" was Wally's promptreply. "Norah, will you use that thing for cocoa, or what?"

"Don't be disrespectful--I'm admiring it, " Norah answered, turning thecup round. "Dad will like it awfully. "

"Has he shown you his prizes?"

"Prizes!" Norah exclaimed, falling off the arm of the sofa inamazement. "Jim, you horrid boy, you never told us. Show me at once!"

"Never thought about 'em, " said the unhappy Jim, un-earthing tworesplendent books. "Here you are, anyhow--and Wally needn't talk; he'sgot three!"

"I'm faint in the presence of so much learning!" Norah said, sittingdown on a golf bag. "Who'd ever have suspected you? French andPrefect's Prize--oh, I'm so glad you got that one, Jim, dear. " Her quickear caught a step, and she called her father excitedly. 

Mr. Linton entered, to be greeted by incoherent tidings of his son'ssuccess, to the meaning of which the two books lent aid. 

"That's especially good news, old chap, " he said quietly, whereat Jimgrinned happily, blushed with fervour, and muttered something entirelyinaudible. "The cup, too! that's a beauty, and no mistake!" He lookedround the "perfick shambles, " and laughed a little. "I don't thinkthey're very safe here, " he said. "With your permission, I'll takecharge of them. " He left the room, carrying the books and the cup withhim. 

At the door he paused. 

"Don't forget Cecil, " he said quietly, and was gone. 

The trio looked blank. 

"Cecil!" said Wally. 

"Hang Cecil!" from Jim disgustedly. 

"Oh, he's such a bore!" Norah said. "And he'd simply hate to be inhere--he wouldn't see any fun in it. I--I really think I've had anoverdose of Cecil. "

"Poor old kid!" said Jim. "Well, we'll hurry up unpacking and then findhim. " They dismissed the "bit of a drawback" airily from their minds, and proceeded with the business in hand, hampered slightly by muchenergetic conversation. Jim's boxes were full of interesting things, the result of his six years at school; his packing, he said, withpained recollection, had been a "corker. "

"Lucky I had that extra chest of drawers put in here, " remarked Norah, stowing away numerous small articles. "Jim, how many boys gave youknives as farewell gifts?"

"Sorra a one of me knows, " said her brother. "I lost count--and lostsome of the knives, too. I've an idea Bill Beresford picked up one Idropped--the one Lance Western gave me; it's got a tortoise-shellhandle, and a nick out of the big blade--and gave it to me for himself. "

"It sounds the sort of economical thing Bill would do, " Wally remarked. 

"Then there are five magnifying glasses, seven pencil cases, and sixpens, " said Norah. "All tokens of affection, Jim? I'll put them in themiddle drawer. "

"What on earth I'm going to do with 'em all, " said their harassedowner, "I'm sure I don't know. Does any one chap use five magnifiers inhis life? Never used one yet! I wish the fellows hadn't been so kind--itwas awfully brickish of them, though, wasn't it? And the Doctor gave methis. " He held up a large and solemn--looking book. 

"What is it?"

"'Self Help, ' by a chap named Smiles. Shouldn't have thought there weremany smiles about a book looking like that, but it shows you can't telleverything by the cover. And Mrs. Doctor gave me this tie--knitted itherself. It was jolly decent of her, wasn't it? She's always beenawfully kind to me, " said the big fellow, who had no idea of what "Mrs. Doctor" thought of his cheerful habit of picking up two or three of herbabies and treating them to a wild ride round the school grounds on hisback; and who had on one occasion sat up all night with a sickthree-year-old who had cried unreasonably for "Yinton" to come andcarry him. The boy had recovered, somewhat against expectations, andJim had thought no more of the matter, except to drop gently and firmlyinto a gorse bush a fellow who had chaffed him for being a nursemaid. He had been amazed, and greatly embarrassed, by the tears in little"Mrs. Doctor's" eyes as she bade him good-bye. Nothing on earth wouldhave induced him to mention them. 

"If the Doctor ever gives me anything barring the length of his tongue, I'll have apoplexy!" remarked Wally. "We don't twin-soul a bit betterthan we did. He caught me beautifully the other day. Three or four ofus were going to have a supper. I'd been into town to the dentist, andwas bringing home a lobster. Coming out, that idiot Bob Greenfield wasnext me on the train, and he amused himself by rubbing the lobstergently until the thin brown paper they wrap 'em in had worn through inplaces. I was talking cricket for all I was worth, and never noticedhim. I'd bought an evening paper, and given him my lobster to holdwhile I looked up some scores. "

"Yes?" said Norah, happily. 

"Well, we came to the school, and off I jumped, and just inside thegate I ran into the Doctor. He was very affable, and we walked uptogether, and he asked me quite affectionately how I'd got on with thedentist, and altogether he might have been my long lost uncle!Presently he glanced down at my parcel, and said, 'Been getting a bootmended, Meadows?' I didn't know what to say for a moment. And while Iwas floundering in my mind the string broke, and down went my parcelwith a clatter on the asphalt!"

"Why do I miss these things?" asked Jim, plaintively. 

"I wish I'd missed it instead of you!" said his chum. "I picked it upin a hurry, and the paper had burst pretty well all over-and-well, youknow, there's no disguising the colour of a lobster! I just held it, and looked a fool, and the Doctor put up his eyeglass and looked it andme all over. Then he said, 'Curious colour for a boot, Meadows'--and Ipromptly turned the same shade as the lobster. "

"Did you get into a row?" Norah asked. 

"No; I will say for the old chap that he was a perfect brick, " Wallysaid. "He just grinned, and walked off, remarking that there was noneed to push investigations too far. And I fled, and the lobster wastip-top, thank you. "

"I don't see why you've any cause to grumble at the Doctor, " wasNorah's comment. 

"That's you, feminine ignorance, " returned Wally. "He made me feelsmall. "

"Well, if I get a head mistress as easy-going--" said Norah, dolefully. 

"Don't you get the idea into your mind that our revered Head'seasy-going!" Wally retorted. "He thinks nothing of skinning a fellow onoccasion--only he didn't happen to think a lobster was occasion--thatnight, anyhow. You see, it was near the end of term, and even Heads getsoft!"

"Lots of em, " said Jim; "look at your own!" He dodged a hairbrushneatly. "Have a little sense, young Wally; don't you see I'm busy?Norah, old chap, did you see my blazer?"

"I hung it in your wardrobe, " said Norah promptly "Also your overcoat, also your straw hat, also your cadet uniform--what are you going to dowith that, by the way, Jim?"

"Get photographed in it, " said Wally, wickedly. 

"I'm likely to!" Jim said, with fine scorn. "Goodness only knows--I mayfind some fellow it'll fit. It certainly wouldn't fit me much longer. "

"It's been the anxiety of the whole battalion, " said Wally. "It creakedand began to split whenever he drilled in it, and for the last sixparades we've always taken out a blanket in case we should need todrape his tattered form on the way home! It's an uncommonly good thinghe's left. Most demoralizing for a young corps to see its corpulentlieutenant bursting out of his uniform!"

"He's not corpulent, " said Norah indignantly, whereat Jim, whopersonified leanness with breadth of shoulder, grinned even more widelythan Wally, and patted her on the head as he passed with an armful ofclothes, which he stowed into his wardrobe much as he might have dumpedsacks of potatoes into a barn. Even Norah's wide and free views on thesubject of garments were not proof against the sight. 

"Are those your good suits, Jim?"

"Yes, " said her brother, cheerfully. "They're used to it. Chuck me thatcoat, Wally. "

Wally complied, and the coat--which happened to be the one belonging toits owner's evening suit--was added to the heap in the wardrobe. 

"I'll sort 'em out some time or other, " said Jim. "I'm so jolly sick ofunpacking. Wally, you animal, you're not finished, are you?"

"Ages ago, " said his chum. "Hadn't anything like your quantity, yousee. My clothes are neat and trim, and my pyjamas have blue ribbon inthem and I have put out my lace pin cushion and my tulle slippers, andall is well! Now I feel I can go and play with Cecil with a quietmind!"

"I really don't know why I brought a lunatic home with me, " Jim said, patiently. "Sorry, Nor. ; but we'll take him out in the scrub and losehim. Meanwhile--" He closed the last drawer with a bang, and advancedwith slow deliberation upon the hapless Mr. Meadows. 

For the next few minutes the air in the room was murky with pillows, other missiles and ejaculations. Out of the turmoil came yelps, muchenergetic abuse, and shrieks to Norah for aid to which that maiden, whowas enjoying herself hugely, lent a deaf ear. Finally, the combatrestricted itself principally to Wally's bed, from which the bedclothesgradually disappeared, until they formed a tight bundle on the floor, with Wally in the centre. Jim piled the mattress on top, and retreatedto the door. 

"Beast!" said Wally, disentangling himself with difficulty, until hesat on the pile, considerably dishevelled, and wearing a broad grin. "It's only your vile brute force--some day I'll get even with you!" Herose, hurled the mattress upon the bed, and looked inquiringly at hisblankets. "How do you imagine I'm going to sleep there to-night?"

"Oh, we'll fix it up when we come to bed, " laughed Jim. "Come on--weought to go down to Cecil. "

"Hold on till I brush my hair, " said Wally, attacking his disturbedlocks, and settling his tie. "All right; lead on, Macduff!"

"Ready, Nor. ?"

Norah hesitated. 

"I'm going to my room for something, " she said. "I'll be after you in afew minutes, boys. "

She disappeared within her room, and the boys clattered downstairs. When they had gone, Norah slipped back noiselessly to Jim's apartment, which gave the impression of having recently been the scene of acyclone. She laughed a little, looking at it from the doorway. 

"It certainly is a 'perfick shambles', " she said. "Poor old chaps--andthey'll be so tired when they come up to bed!"

Moving quietly, she sorted out the tangled bedclothes and made up thebed, and reduced to order some of the chaos in the room. Then sheopened the wardrobe and took out the mass of clothes, sorting out thesuits and putting them away carefully, with a shake to the coats toremove creases. The dress suit she laid in a drawer, running to her ownroom for a tiny lavender bag to keep away the moths. She was closingthe drawer when she started at a step, and Jim came in. 

"What on earth are you up to?" was his question. His eye travelledround the room, taking in the open door of the wardrobe, and the dresscoat in the drawer, where stood his small sister, rather flushed. 

"Well!" he said, and paused. "Weren't we beasts?"

"No, you weren't, " said Norah indignantly. 

"H'm, " said Jim. "It's a jolly good thing when a fellow has a sister, anyhow. " He came over to her and put his arm round her shoulders. "Dearold chap!" he said. They went down the stairs together. 

CHAPTER VIII

A THUNDERSTORM

 The Bush hath moods and changes, as the seasons rise and fall, And the men who love the Bushland--they are loyal thro' it all. A. B. PATERSON. 

"The day after to-morrow is the date of the men's dance, " Mr. Lintonsaid. "Norah mustn't go in for any wild exertion on that day, as she'llprobably want to dance several hundred miles at night. So if you boyswant to plan anything, you had better make your arrangements forto-morrow. "

"I don't know that I've energy enough to plan anything, " said Jim, lazily. He was lying full length on the lawn, his head on Norah. Wallywas close by, and Cecil and Mr. Linton occupied basket chairs. Peacewould have reigned supreme had not the mosquitoes kept every one busy. 

"Any wishes, Cecil?"

"None whatever, " said Cecil. "There are no people to go and see, Ithink you said, Uncle David?"

"No one that would interest you, " Mr. Linton said; and Wally and Jim, who had groaned internally with fear of being taken "calling, " felttheir spirits return. 

"My brain's not equal to planning, as I remarked, " Jim said. "But if Igo anywhere, I'd like to do so on a horse. I want to feel a horse underme again. "

"Hear, hear, " from Wally, softly. 

"Well, I can't go out to-morrow, " said the squatter. "I've letters tosee to, and Anderson may be out; so you must look afteryourselves--which I believe you to be entirely capable of doing. Norah, haven't you any ideas?"

"Loads, " said Norah, promptly, "but they're all connected withmosquitoes!" She aimed a vicious blow into space as she spoke, andsighed, before rubbing the bite. "Well, suppose we ride out and boilthe billy somewhere along the river? Cecil, would you care for that?"

"Very much, " said Cecil, in the tones that always gave the impressionthat he despised the particular subject under discussion. Norah hadquite withdrawn the opinion formed in the first five minutes of theiracquaintance, that he was ill mannered--now she bewailed the fact thathe was so uniformly and painfully polite. 

"Well, if you would--" she said, hesitatingly. "What do you boys think?"

"Grand idea, " responded Wally. Norah loved Wally's way; he was alwaysso pleased and interested over any plan that might be formed. Jim waswont to remark that if you arranged to clean out a pigsty, Wally wouldprobably regard it as a gigantic picnic, and enjoy his day hugely. Shesmiled at him gratefully in the darkness. 

"You too, Jim?"

"Rather--anything you like, " said her brother. "What horse can I have, Dad?"

Jim had no special horse of his own. His two ponies, Sirdar and Mick, he had outgrown, although they were still up to anything of a lighterweight--the former only inferior to Norah's beloved Bobs. His absencesfrom home were so long that it had not seemed worth while to procurehim a special horse, and for several holidays he had been accustomed toride any of the station mounts. Privately, Jim was not altogethersatisfied with the arrangement, although quite admitting its commonsense. Now that he had left school he intended to ask his father if hecould buy a horse. 

"You can try my new purchase, Monarch, if you like, " Mr. Lintonanswered. "He's quite a decent mover--I think you'll like him. "

Cecil bit his lip, under cover of the darkness. He coveted a ride onboth Bobs and Monarch, and had given hints on the subject, but neitherhad been taken. Now Jim, nearly three years his junior, was lentMonarch without even having asked for him; while he was still, hepresumed, to ride the steady-going Brown Betty, whom he thoroughlydespised, in spite of the fact that she had once got rid of him. Heregistered another notch in his general grudge against Billabong. 

Mr. Linton was absolutely ignorant of what passed in his nephew's mind. To give the city boy, with his uncertain seat and heavy hands, anythingbut a steady horse, never occurred to him; he would have regarded it aslittle short of inviting disaster to put him on Monarch, thoroughbredand newly broken in as he was; and, of course, no one but Norah everrode Bobs. 

"That's all right, " he said, as Jim expressed his pleasure. "And whatabout you, Wally? You're too long now for Mick, I think. "

"Oh, anything you like, sir, " said Wally, easily. "I haven't met anybad 'uns on Billabong. Warder, or Brown Betty, or Nan--have you got themall still?"

"They're all here, " the squatter said. "Cecil generally rides Betty, and I believe Burton's using old Warder just now. But you can have Nan, if you like. "

"Thanks very much, " said Wally. "I'll take the shine out of you, youngNorah!"

"I'd like to see you, " returned Norah. Monarch might beat Bobs or yes, perhaps one other horse she knew of, in a small tree-grown paddock; atthe thought of which she smiled happily to herself. But no other horseon Billabong could see the way Bobs went when he was in earnest. 

"Well, that's all settled, " Mr. Linton said. "I hope you'll have a goodday--you're bound to have it hot, so I should advise you to get an earlystart. If you go as far as the Swamp Paddock, Norah, you might rideround the cattle there, and see if they're settling down--I put the newbullocks there, you know. "

"All right, Dad, we'll do it. I like having an object for a ride. "

"Same here, " said Jim sleepily. "Picnics are asinine things!"

"I don't believe you know much about anything--you're three partsasleep!" said Wally, flinging a cushion at his chum, which Jim caughtthankfully, and, remarking that Norah was uncommonly scraggy, adjustedunder his head. The result was a vigorous upheaval by the indignantNorah, who declined to be a head-rest for such ingratitude any longer. At this point Mr. Linton discovered that it was time for supper; andthe boys, tired after their long journey, were not long in sayinggoodnight. 

Jim came up with Norah, and switched on her light. His eye travelledround the pretty room. 

"I don't know what part of home's HOMIEST, " he said--"but I alwaysreckon your room runs pretty near it! Blest if I know what it will belike when you're not here, little chap. "

Norah rubbed her face against his coat sleeve. 

"We don't talk of it, " she said. "If we did, I'd--I'd be a horridcoward, Jimmy--boy, and you wouldn't like me a bit!"

"Wouldn't I?" Jim said. "Well, I can't imagine you a coward, anyhow. "He bent and kissed her. "Good-night, old kiddie. "

They set out in good time next morning, for the sun gave promise of ascorching day. 

Billy had the horses ready under the shade of a huge pepper-tree; eventhere the flies were bad enough to set Monarch and Bobs fretting withirritation, while the two stock horses lashed unceasingly with theirtails and stamped in the dust. Nan was a long, handsome brown mare, with two white feet--an old friend of Wally's, who came and patted herand let her rub her worried head against his coat. Cecil mounted Bettyand looked on sourly, while Jim walked round Monarch and admired thebig black. 

"He ought to carry you like a bird, Dad. "

"He does; a bit green yet, but he'll mend of that, " his fatheranswered. "Now, get away, all of you. " He put Norah up and watched, with a silent look of approval, the way Jim handled his impatientsteed, taking him quietly, as one treats a fractious baby, and mountinggently. Then he stood under the tree to see them ride down the paddock, valises containing necessaries for the "asinine picnic" strapped on Nanand Betty's saddles. Norah, as the lady of the party, was exempt fromcarrying burdens, and Monarch brooked no load but his rider. 

They made good time across the shadeless paddocks, anxious for thepleasanter conditions along the river bank, where a cattle track woundin and out under the gum trees. It was one of Norah and Jim's favouriterides; they never failed to take it when holidays brought the boy backto Billabong. They pushed along it for some time, eventually findingthe slip rails, through which they got into the Swamp Paddock--so calledbecause of a wide marsh in one corner, where black duck and snipe usedto come freely. The new cattle had taken to the paddock like old hands. Satisfied with their inspection, Norah and Jim led the way back to theriver, where presently they came to an ideal place to camp; a bendthickly shaded, with the river bank shelving down to a sandy beach, where it was easy to get good water. 

Wally volunteered to boil the billy, which he accomplished after muchvigorous fanning with his hat at the fire. The job took some littletime, and if the tea was eventually brewed with water that had notquite reached boiling point, that was a matter between Wally and hisconscience--certainly the other members of the party were far toothirsty to be critical! Lunch was lazily discussed close to the water, after which they lay about on the bank and talked of many things. Nobody was inclined to move, for the heat, even at the river, was verygreat; a still, thunderous day, on which no shade could keep out themoist heat, that seemed, as Wally put it, "to get into your very bonesand make them lazy. "

At length Jim rolled over. 

"Well, I'm off for a bathe, " he said. "Coming, Cecil?"

"Oh, yes, " Cecil answered, a little doubtfully; while Wally jumped upas a matter of course. 

"Ugh!" groaned Norah. "Pigs! Why was I born a girl?"

"So's we could lay ourselves at your feet!" said Wally solemnly, suiting the action to the word, and placing his forehead forcefully inthe dust before her. 

"M'f!" Norah wrinkled her nose. "It's very nice of you, but I don'tquite see what use it would be. Anyhow, I'd far rather go bathing. " Shehuddled on the ground, and looked tragic. "Go--leave me!"

"Sorry, old girl, " grinned Jim. "We won't be long. "

"Be as long as you like, " said the victim of circumstances, cheerfully. "I'm going to sleep. "

The three boys disappeared along the bank, finding, apparently, somedifficulty in discovering a suitable bathing place, for it was sometime before shouts and laughter from a good way off told Norah thatthey were in the water. She sighed, looking ruefully at the riverflowing beneath her, and half decided to go in herself; but her fatherdid not care for her bathing in the open alone, and she gave up theidea and shut her eyes so that she would not see temptation ripplingdown below. Presently she fell asleep. 

She did not know how long it was before she woke. Then she jumped upwith a start, thinking, for a moment, that it was dark. The sun haddisappeared behind a huge bank of deep-purple cloud that had crept up, blotting out everything. It was breathlessly hot and quite still--not aleaf stirred on a tree, and the birds were quiet. 

"Whew!" said Norah. "We're going to have a storm--and a big one!"

She listened. From far up faint calls and laughter still met her ears. It was evident that the boys were finding the water very much to theirtaste. 

"Duffers!" Norah ejaculated. "We'll have the loveliest soaking--andDad'll be anxious. "

She coo-ee'd several times, but no response came. Finally she rose, with a little wrinkle in her brow. 

"I guess I'd better saddle up, " she said. 

The horses were tied up in a clump of trees not far off, the saddlesout of reach of their restless feet. Norah saddled Bobs first, and thenthe two stock horses--which was easy. To get Monarch ready, however, wasnot such a simple matter: the youngster was uneasy and sweating, andwould not keep still for a moment; to get the saddle on and adjustbreastplate and rings was a fairly stiff task with a sixteen-handshorse and a groom of fourteen years, hampered by a divided ridingskirt. At length the last buckle went home, and Norah gave a relievedsigh. 

"Bother you, Monarch!" she said. "You've taken me an awful time. Comeon, Bobs. "

Leaving the other horses tied up, she mounted and cantered down thebank, calling again and again. An answer came sooner than she hadexpected, and the three boys, somewhat hastily arrayed, came runningthrough the trees. 

"Jimmy, have you seen the weather?" asked his sister, indicating theblackened sky. 

"Only a few minutes ago, " Jim said, visibly annoyed with himself. "Wewere diving in a hole with the trees meeting overhead, and the scrubthick all around us--hadn't an idea it was working up for this. Whydidn't you call us, you old duffer?"

"I did--but I couldn't make you hear, " said Norah, somewhat injured. "Hurry--I've saddled up. "

"You have? You didn't saddle Monarch?" asked Jim quickly. 

"Yes, he's all ready, and the valises are on. We're in for a ducking, anyway, don't you think, Jim?"

"I think you hadn't any business to saddle Monarch, " Jim said, soberly. "I wish you wouldn't do those things, Norah. "

"Oh, it was all right. " She smiled down at him. "He was only a bitfidgety; I believe he's frightened of the weather, Jim. " She lookedacross at Cecil, seeing that young gentleman, wonderful to relate, withhis stock folded awry, and his hair in wild confusion. "Do you mindthunderstorms, Cecil?"

"I--don't care for them much, " Cecil panted. Running evidently did notagree with him, and he was finding his tweed riding suit very unfittedfor the heat of the day. Jim, jogging easily, clad in white silk shirt, cord breeches and leggings, looked at him pityingly. 

"Carry your coat, Cecil?" he sang out. 

"No, thank you. I'd rather wear it, " said Cecil, who disapproved ofbeing coatless at any time, and had looked with marked disfavour at Jimand Wally as they set off in the morning. 

"Stupid donkey!" Jim muttered, under his breath. "Ah, there are thehorses!"

He made for Betty at once, and tossed the breathless Cecil into hersaddle, advising him to ride on quickly. 

Wally was up in a twinkling; but to mount Monarch was no such easymatter, for the black horse was dancing with restlessness, and a lowgrowl of thunder far to the west evidently terrified him. Finally, witha quick movement, Jim was in the saddle, whereat Monarch promptlyreared. He came down, and tried to get his head between his legs, butthe boy was too quick for him, and presently steadied him sufficientlyto move away in the wake of the others. 

"Go on!" Jim shouted. "Don't lose a minute!"

They went down the river bank at a hand gallop, chafing now and then atthe necessity of striking away from the track to find gates orslip-rails, as one paddock followed another. At first Monarch gave Jimall he knew to hold him, and at the gates Wally and Norah had to do allthe work, for the black thoroughbred was too impatient to stand aninstant, and threatened to buck a score of times. Jim watched the skyanxiously, very disgusted with himself. He knew they had no chance ofgetting home dry, but at least they must be out of the timber beforethe storm broke. It was coming very near now--the thunder was morefrequent, and jagged lightning tore rents in the inky curtain thatcovered the sky. He took Monarch by the head, and sent him tearingalong the track, passing the boys--Wally riding hard on Nan, and Cecilsitting back on Betty with a pale face. Before him Bobs was gallopingfreely, Norah riding with her hands well down, and on her face a smilethat was like a child's laugh of sheer happiness. Norah lovedthunderstorms; they seemed to call to something in her nature thatnever failed to respond. She glanced up at Jim merrily as he passedher. 

"Grand, isn't it?" she said. Then her face changed. "He isn't gettingaway with you, Jim?"

"Not he!" said her brother, grinning. "But we've got to get out of thisjolly soon--hurry your old crock, Norah!" Norah's indignant heel smoteBobs, and they raced neck and neck for a moment. 

They swung out of the trees just in time, the plain clear for homebefore them. Almost simultaneously, the storm broke. There was a madflash of lightning across the gloom, and then a rattling peal ofthunder that rang round the sky and finished with a tremendous crackoverhead. The black horse stopped suddenly, wild with terror. Then hishead went down, and he bucked. 

Norah and Wally pulled up, regardless of the rain beginning to fall intorrents. Monarch was swaying to and fro in mad paroxysms, trying toget his head between his knees, his back humped in an arch, all hisbeing centred in the effort to get rid of the weight on his back, andthe iron in his mouth, and the control that kept him near that terribleconvulsion of nature going on overhead. Jim was motionless, each handlike iron on the rein--yet with gentleness, for he knew the great blackbrute was only a baby after all, and a badly frightened baby at that. Cecil, coming by on Betty, his face white, looked aghast at thestruggle between horse and rider, and fled on homewards. The thunderpealed, and the lightning lit the sky in forked darts. 

Possibly the rain steadied Monarch, or sense came back to him throughJim's voice. He stopped suddenly, planting all four feet wide apart onthe ground. Jim patted his neck, and spoke to him, and the tension wentout of the big horse. He stood trembling a little. 

"Slip along, " nodded Jim to Norah. 

Bobs and Nan went off together. Behind them, Monarch broke into acanter, obedient once more. 

Five minutes later they were at the stables, Billy out in the wet totake the horses. The storm was raging still, but there were coolnessand refreshment in the air. Billy grinned at the three soaked riders asthey slipped to the ground, and then at Brown Betty, trotting down thehill in the rain. There was no sign of Cecil, who had fled indoors. 

"Him plenty 'fraid, " said the black retainer, his grin widening. "Himrun like emu!" His eagle gaze dwelt on Monarch, who was still tremblingand excited. 

"Been buck?" he asked, his eyes round. 

"Plenty!" Jim laughed. "All right, Billy, I'll let him go myself. "

CHAPTER IX

THE BILLABONG DANCE

 The slope beyond is green and still, And in my dreams I dream, The hill is like an Irish hill Beside an Irish stream. KENDALL. 

"Don't dress to-night, if you don't mind, Cecil, " said Jim, putting hishead into his cousin's room. 

"Not dress?" Evening clothes were part of Cecil's training, and he keptto them rigidly, putting on each night for dinner what Murty O'Toole, having seen in wonder, referred to as "a quare littlecobbed-shwaller-tail jacket. " He regarded with fine scorn the cheerfulcarelessness of the boys where clothes were concerned. To Jim and Wallywho were generally immensely occupied until dinner-time, and more oftenthan not had further plans for the time following, putting onregulation evening dress seemed a proceeding little short of lunatic;but since Cecil "liked that sort of thing, " they let him alone. To-night, however, was different, and when Cecil repeated his queryhalf impatiently, Jim nodded. 

"No. Didn't we tell you? It's the dance in the loft. "

"Oh--don't you people ever dress for dances then?"

"Not for these dances, " Jim answered. "It's the men's spree--all thehands and their friends; and you can be jolly well certain they won'trun to dress clothes. So we make a point of not putting 'em on. Fatherdid one year, and felt very sorry he had. "

"I don't know that I'm keen on going, anyway, " said Cecil. 

"Oh, I think you'd better. Dad likes us to go, and it's really ratherfun, " Jim responded, patiently. "Norah's quite excited about it. "

"Norah's young and enthusiastic, " said Cecil. 

"Oh, well, you're hardly hoary-headed yourself yet!" Jim grinned. "Might as well be cheerful while you're alive, Cecil, 'cause you'll bea long time dead!" He withdrew his head, shut the door with anunconcerned bang, and his whistle died away up the corridor. 

"Hang it!" said Cecil, disgustedly, looking at his forbidden garments. "Who wants to go to a beastly servants' ball, anyhow?" He donned a darksuit reluctantly, a little consoled in that its very recent cut wouldcertainly be an eye-opener to Billabong, and went down to dinner, meeting on the way Norah, in a muslin frock, with her hair flying andher eyes sparkling. 

"Oh! I'm so glad you haven't dressed up!" said she. "It's such fun, Cecil!--we've been helping to decorate the loft, and really you'd hardlyknow it was a loft, it looks so decent. And it's so funny to see themen; they pretend they don't care a bit, but I do believe they're quiteexcited. Murty came in with a trememdous lot of ferns, and he's beennailing them all on the wall in streaks, and he and Mick Shanahannearly had a fight 'cause Mick leaned against one of them and theerection came down, and the nail tore Mick's coat. Still, it was Murtywho seemed most aggrieved! And the musicians have come out from Cunjee, and they've been practising--they can play, too!" She paused for lack ofbreath. 

"What sort of music does Cunjee supply?"

"Violin and flute and a funny little piano, " said Norah. "They hadquite an exciting time getting the piano up into the loft with theblock and pulley. But the music sounds very well up there. The onlytrouble is old Andy Ferguson, the fencer--he's always been accustomed tofiddle for them, and he's very crushed because we've got out these men. Dad says he'd never have got them if he'd dreamed how disappointed oldAndy would be. "

Cecil had seen Andy, who struck him as a peculiarly uninteresting oldman. That such consideration should be shown to his wishes and feelingswas a thing beyond him, and he merely stared. 

"However, he's going to play the supper dances and some others, " saidNorah, not noticing his silence, "so he's a bit consoled. " They enteredthe drawing-room at the moment, finding Jim and Wally in armchairs, tweed clad and unusually tidy, and chafing miserably against thetyranny of white shirts after days of soft variety. "And a big buggyload of girls has come out from Cunjee already; and Brownie saysthere's a tremendous demand for hot water for shaving from the men'squarters, and Dave Boone came in for some mutton fat for his hair, butshe wouldn't give it to him. Now she's half sorry she didn't, 'causeshe believes he'll use the black fat they keep in the harness room;he's so dark no one would be able to tell--from the look! Who are yougoing to dance with, Cecil?"

"You, if I may, " drawled Cecil. 

"Why, of course, if you want to, " Norah said, laughing. "But we alwaysdance with every one on these occasions. It's one of the sights ofone's life to see Wally leading Brownie out!"

Cecil gasped. 

"And am I expected to dance with Mrs. Brown?"

"Very possibly she won't have a dance to spare you, " said Wallyserenely. "Brownie's no end popular, you see. Thank goodness. I'vebooked mine with her already!"

Cecil's stare spoke volumes. 

"And who are your partners, Norah?"

"Any one who asks me, " said that maiden promptly. 

"And your father allows it?"

"Certainly he does, " said Jim. "Don't get tragic, Cecil. The men on theplace are an awfully decent lot, and most of them have been here everso long--besides, it's their one night in the year, and they neveroverstep their limits. Dad always plans this spree himself specially. Of course, if you don't like--"

Jim stopped short, and bit his tongue. It had suddenly occurred to himthat he was host--and he had nearly said something rude. So he whistledvaguely, and asked Wally if he were going to dance with Lee Wing, whowas the Chinese gardener. 

"Wish I could get the chance, " said Wally, his eyes twinkling. "Thinkof piloting fat old Lee Wing through a polka--he'd get so beautifullypuffed, and his pigtail would wave in the breeze, and he'd be such anarmful!"

"Do you mean to say that Chow comes, too?" queried Cecil. 

"No; he's shy, " Wally answered. "We've tried to get him, but in vain;he prefers to go to bed and dream of China. And Billy hangs about likea black ghost, but he won't come in. So we lose a lot of internationalenjoyment; but, even so, what's left is pretty good, itsn't it, Norah?"

"I love it, " said Norah. 

"And you don't get any of your own friends to come? It seems to me thequeerest arrangement, " said Cecil. 

"It's the men's dance, don't you see? There wouldn't be much fun forthem if the place were filled up with our friends. "

"Well, I should think a few of your own sort would be better. Aren'tthere any girls or boys within reach that you know? I suppose you've ajuvenile sweetheart or two in the district?"

Norah looked at him blankly. Wally gave an expressive wriggle in hischair, and Jim sat up suddenly, with a flush on his brown face. 

"We never talk that sort of rot here, " he said angrily. "Norah's not atown girl, and her head isn't full of idiotic, silly bosh. I'll thankyou--"

Mr. Linton came in at the moment, and the point on which Jim intendedto express his gratitude remained unuttered. Cecil had reddenedwrathfully, and the general atmosphere was electric. Mr. Linton took, apparently, no notice. He pulled Norah's hair gently as he passed her. 

"You're all remarkably spruce, " he commented. "Can any one tell me whyalmost every maid I have met in my house this day turns and flees asthough I were the plague? Sarah is the only one who doesn't shun me, and her mind appears to be taken up with affairs of State, for I askedher twice if she had seen my tobacco pouch, and she brought me inresponse a jug of shaving water, for which I have had no use for sometime!" He laughed, stroking his iron-grey beard. "Can you explain themystery, Norah?"

"It's easy, " said his daughter. "Sarah's hair has a natural friz, soshe's the only girl in the house without curling pins concealed--more orless--in her front hair. Brownie gave permission for the pins to-day; Iguess she thinks it would give Sarah an unfair start if she didn't!"

"But the shaving water?"

"Ah, well, I expect Fred Anderson wanted that. She's engaged to him, you know, " said Norah, simply. 

"Well, I hardly see why she should give me his shaving water, eitherfrom Anderson's point of view or mine; but I suppose it's all right, "said Mr. Linton. "The whole place is upset. I really wanted some workdone, but the men who should have been sinking a well were tacking upferns, and those whose mission in life is--or ought to be--hoeing outragwort were putting French chalk on the floor of my loft! Judging frommy brief inspection, it seemed to me that the latter occupation was farmore strenuous than the ragwort job; but they seemed much happier thanusual, and were working overtime without a struggle!"

"To hear you talk so patiently, " quoth Norah, "no one would imaginethat you'd bought the French chalk yourself!" She perched on the arm ofhis chair, and looked at him severely, while the boys laughed. 

"The men are like a lot of kids to-day, " Jim said. "Did you hear aboutold Lee Wing, Dad? He was standing under the block and pulley afterthey'd hoisted up the piano, and I expect the sight of the hook on theend of the dangling rope was too much for the men, for they slipped itthrough Wing's leather belt and hauled him up too! You should have seenhim, with his pigtail dangling, kicking at the end of the rope like thespider in 'Little Miss Muffet!' They landed him in the loft, and FredAnderson insisted on waltzing with him, while one of the musicianshammered out The Merry Widow on the piano. Poor old Wing was very wildat first, but they got him laughing finally. "

"Why that long-suffering Chinaman stays here is always a mystery tome, " said his father, laughing. "He's the butt of the whole place; buthe fattens on it. "

"There's the dinner gong!" said Norah, jumping up. "Come on, gentlemen, we've to hurry to-night, so that the girls can get free early. "

The loft over the stables, which had been built with a view to suchoccasions, was quite transformed when the house party entered it acouple of hours later. The electric light--Billabong had its own plantfor lighting--had been extended to the loft, and gleamed down on aperfect bower of green--bracken and coral ferns, the tender foliage ofyoung sapling tops, Christmas bush, clematis and tall reeds from thelagoon--the latter gathered by Jim and Wally during their morning bathe. Rough steps had been improvised to lead from outside up to the maindoor of the loft, over which still dangled from the block and pulleythe rope that had suspended the irate Lee Wing earlier in the day. Itwas also possible to enter by the usual method--a trapdoor in the floorover a ladder leading from the floor below; but this was considered bythe men scarcely suitable for their partners. All traces of its usualcontents had, of course, been removed from the big room, and the floorgleamed in the light, mute evidence of the ardour with which Mr. Linton's French chalk had been applied. At one end, near the railingguarding the trapdoor, the Cunjee musicians were stationed, and closeto them a queer old figure hovered--old Andy Ferguson, gnarled andknotted and withered; Irish, for all his Scotch name, and with his oldblue eyes full of Irish fire at the thought of "a spree. " He held hisold fiddle tenderly as he might hold a child; it, too, was the worsefor wear, and showed in more than one place traces of repair; but whenAndy wielded the bow its tones were just as mellow to him as the finestinstrument on earth. He kept a jealous eye on the Cunjee men; theymight oust him for most of the night, but at least his was to be theold privilege of opening the ball. "The Boss" had said so. 

The homestead men had lined up near the door to receive theirguests--to-night they were hosts to Mr. Linton and his children, as toevery one else. They were a fine lot of fellows--Murty O'Toole, and MickShanahan, the horse breaker, and Willis and Blake and Burton--all longand lean and hard, with deep-set, keen eyes and brown, thin faces;Evans, who was supposed to be over-seer, and important enough to arrivelate; younger fellows, like Fred Anderson and David Boone (the latter'shair suspiciously smooth and shiny); Hogg, the dour old man who ruledthe flower garden and every one but Norah; and a sprinkling of oddrouseabouts and boys, very sleek and well brushed, in garments ofvarying make, low collars, and the tie the bushman loves "forbest"--pale blue satin, with what Wally termed "jiggly patterns" on it. Of the same type were the guests--men from other stations, cocky farmersand a very small sprinkling of township men. 

The ladies kept rigidly on arrival to the other side of the loft. Therewas Mrs. Brown, resplendent in a puce silk dress that Norah rememberedfrom her earliest childhood, with a lace cap of monumental structuretopped by a coquettish bow of pale pink ribbon. Her kind old facebeamed on every one. Close to her, very meek under her sheltering wing, were Sarah and Mary, the housemaids--very gay in papery silks, pink andgreen, with much adornment of wide yellow lace. Norah had helped todress them both, and she smiled delightedly at them as she came in. There was Mrs. Willis, who ruled over the men's hut, and was reckoned, as a cook, only inferior to Mrs. Brown; and Joe Burton's pretty wife, in a simple white muslin--with no doubt in big Joe's heart, as he lookedat her, as to who was the belle of the ball. Then, girls and women fromthat vague region the bush calls "about, " in mixed attire--from flannelblouses and serge skirts, to a lady who hurt the eye it looked at, andmade the lights seem pale, in her gorgeous gown of mustard-colouredvelveteen, trimmed with knots of cherry-coloured ribbon. They cameearly, with every intention of staying late, and cheerfully certain ofa good time. The Billabong ball was an event for which an invitationwas much coveted. 

Norah kept close to her father's wing, as they entered, shaking handsgravely with the men by the door, and with Mrs. Brown--which latterproceeding she privately considered a joke. The boys followed; Jimquiet and pleasant; Wally favouring Murty O'Toole with a solemn wink, and Cecil plainly bored by the little ceremony. He let his fingers liein each man's hand languidly--and would probably have been injured hadhe seen Murty wipe his hand carefully on the side of his trousers afterhe had passed on. The men had no love for the city boy. 

"S'lect y'r partners!" It was Dave Boone, most noted "M. C. "--in demandat every ball in the district. Dave knew what he was about, and sawthat other people understood the fact; no shirking when he was incommand, no infringement of rules, no slip-shod dancing. Even as hekept his eagle eye on the throng, he "selected" one of the prettiestgirls himself, and bore her to the head of the room. There was neverany doubt of Dave's generalship. 

Cecil turned to Norah. 

"May I have this?"

"Sorry, " Norah said, "I always dance with Jim first. "

"P'f!" said Cecil, lightly. "That old brother-and-sister idea isexploded. "

"Not with Jimmy and me, " Norah answered. "Why don't you ask Mary? Shecan dance awfully well. "

"No, thank you, " said Cecil, with elevated nose. "I'll watch. "

Wally had approached Mrs. Brown, and bowed low. 

"Ours, I think?"

"Now, Master Wally, me dancin' days are over, " said Brownie. "Go an'get one of the girls, now, dearie, do!"

"A girl!--when I can get you?" Wally ejaculated. "Not much!" He tuckedher hand into his arm and led her off in triumph. 

"Promen-ayde y'r partners!"

Dave turned and nodded to Andy Ferguson, who, with fiddle tuckedlovingly under his chin, was waiting for his signal. He broke into amarch--the time a little shaky, the tune a little old, for the hand thatheld the bow was old and shaky, too; but still a march, with a swing toit that set the feet going at once. The dancers promenaded round theroom in a long procession, led proudly by Wally and Mrs. Brown. At oneend a few men, disappointed in obtaining partners, clustered by thewall; near them stood Mr. Linton, watching in his grave, pleasant waythat was so like Jim's, with Cecil at his elbow, his delicate face dulland expressionless. Round and round marched the couples. 

"Circular waltz, please!"

The music swung into a waltz without a break, and simultaneously themarch broke into the dance as every man seized his partner by the waistand began to revolve solemnly and silently. Cecil gaped. 

"What on earth is a circular waltz?"

"Blest if I know for certain, " replied his uncle, laughing. "Much likeany other waltz--but you mustn't use the middle of the floor. Watchyoung Boone. "

Dave was keeping an eagle eye on the dancers. For the most part theywere content to gyrate near the wall; but should any more daring coupleapproach the unoccupied space in the middle of the room, they wereinstantly detected and commanded to return. As Cecil looked, Wally, whowas dancing with a broad grin of sheer happiness on his face, swung hisponderous partner right across the centre--and was greeted by thevigilant M. C. With the stern injunction--"Keep circle!" Quite obliviousthat this outbreak had anything to do with him, while Mrs. Brown, feeling the most miserable of sinners, was far too breathless toexplain, Wally presently repeated his offence, whereupon Boone pulledhim up gravely, and pointed out his enormity to him. The culpritgrinned the more widely, promised amendment, nodded vigorously, anddanced off, Mrs. Brown remaining speechless throughout. Mr. Lintonsmothered a laugh in his beard. 

Presently the music came to an end. Old Andy put his fiddle down andlooked along the loft with a happy little smile. The dancers stopped, and Mr. Boone's voice rose sonorously. 

"Seats, please!"

At this, each man rushed with his partner to the side of the loftpreviously tenanted by the ladies, and deposited her on the long formsranged there. Then the men retreated hastily to the other side. 

There was no conversation, nor had there been any through the dance. Itseemed that the poetry of motion must suffice for enjoyment. 

Norah and Jim, who had been dancing vigorously, pulled up near theothers. 

"Did you see me get hauled over the coals?" asked Wally gleefully. Hehad placed Mrs. Brown on a seat, and followed the example of his sex inretreating. 

"Rather--we were in fits, behind you!" said Jim. "Was Dave cross?"

"Oh, quite mild; took my assurance that I didn't know I was sinning, and forgave me like a man and a brother. And why shouldn't a fellowcross that floor?"

"Goodness knows; but it's a rule. They dance very strictly, and in manyways more correctly than we do. "

"There are two lovely couples, " said Wally, gleefully. "They hold eachother firmly round the neck, and they revolve on the space of athreepenny bit. It's beautiful. May I try that way with you, Norah?"

"No, you mayn't, " laughed Norah; "at least, not here. They might thinkwe were imitating them. "

"Curious penetration on their parts!" rejoined Wally. "Well, can youtell me why lots of the men hold one arm behind their backs?"

"In my young days that was quite ordinary, " Mr. Linton put in. "Ialways danced that way--and I was remarkably run after, " he added, modestly. Whereat Wally meekly assured him that he thought the practicea highly desirable one, and had serious thoughts of adopting ithimself. 

"I've been looking at the programme nailed up for the musicians, " saidCecil. "There are some dances I never saw--Varsoviana, CircassianCircle, and Caledonians. "

"In the Varsoviana, " said Mr. Linton, retrospectively, "I used toshine. "

"Well, they beat US, " said his son. "We can't dance 'em; but we lookon. The first two are round dances, and the Caledonians is a square. Isuppose they'd be all right, only they're not taught now. "

"And there are no two-steps, " said Cecil, in a tone of personal injury. 

Jim laughed outright. 

"It'd be so much simpler for you if you'd remember you're at what'scommonly known as 'a bush hop', " he said. "You can't expect the lastadornments of a city spree. Anyway, they get more honest fun out ofthis than most people do at a Melbourne or Sydney ball. "

Cecil looked patient. 

"May I have the next dance, Norah?"

"I'm sorry, truly, Cecil, but I've promised it to Murty. "

"Oh!" said Cecil. "The next?"

"That's Mick Shanahan's, " said Norah, laughing. "But you may have theone after that if you like. "

"I must be thankful for small mercies, I suppose, " said he, unthankfully. 

"Won't you dance with any one else?"

"No, thanks, I don't care to. " The tone was final. 

"Well, I'm going to collar Sarah or die!" said Wally, manfully. "I'llprobably die, anyway, 'cause Fred has his eye on her. Still, heregoes!"

The musicians gave a preliminary blast, on which followed a shout fromthe M. C. 

"Select y'r partners for the lancers!"

At the word there was a general stampede. Youths who had been timidbefore, grown bolder now, dashed towards the long row of girls. Wheremore than one arrived simultaneously, there was no argument; the manwho failed to speak first shot off to find another damsel. In a momentevery available fair one had been secured firmly, and the dancersawaited further commands. 

Wally had not waited for permission from Mr. Boone. At the first soundof the music he had darted towards Sarah, arriving beside the lady with"the natural friz" a yard in front of Fred Anderson. 

It was not etiquette to refuse to dance, and the fact that he was "theBoss's" guest, if only a boy, carried weight. Sarah rose, with a ruefulglance at her disappointed swain. The two disconsolate faces movedWally to compassion. 

"I say--I'm awfully sorry, " he said. "'Fraid I got ahead of youunfairly, Fred--perhaps you'll excuse me this time, Sarah? You don'tmind? Well, you'll give me the next, won't you? Thanks, awfully. " Herelinquished her to the beaming Fred, and returned, partnerless, to Mr. Linton and Cecil. 

Then it was a marvellous sight to behold young Dave Boone! With Mrs. Brown on his arm, he "took the floor" at the head of the room, seeingthat the dancers were correctly sorted out in sets; and thenceproceeded to dance and instruct the room simultaneously, in a mannertruly amazing. With what agility did he "set to partner" and "swingcorner, " with his eagle eye all the time scanning the sets to make sureno one mixed up the commands!--how ably bear his part in "First lady andsecond gent. , " not even put out of step by the necessity of telling thefurther end of the room that it was going wrong!--how splendidly issuethe edict to "chassee-crossee" and "gent. Solo, " finding time, even inthe press of his double occupation, to propel his panting partner inthe way she should go! His voice rang out over the room, indicatingeach figure as it came--there was no excuse for making any mistake in asquare dance when Mr. Boone was in command. And all the while he dancedwith a wholehearted energy and a face of absolute gravity. No one, watching him, could have possibly imagined that this was a pastime. 

"I've seen Boone looking infinitely more cheerful when fighting a bushfire!" said Mr. Linton. 

"Talk about a conjurer!" was Cecil's astonished comment. "I never sawone man do so many things at once!"

The music ceased at last, and the "Seats, please!" marked the temporarytermination of the labours of the M. C. Murty brought Norah back to herfather, thanked her gravely, and made off. 

"What happened to you, Wally?" queried Jim, restoring a blushing damselin blue to her form and rejoining his relations. "Did Sarah turn youdown?"

"I resigned gracefully in favour of Fred, " Wally said. "He lookedmurderous, and Sarah looked woe-begone, so it seemed the best plan. Butshe's mine for the next--and ill befall the caitiff that disputes myclaim!"

"No one'd dare!" said Jim, hastily. "I'm after Brownie, myself. "

"Ah, Jim, be steady with her, " said Norah. "It's a polka!"

"I'll be steady as old Time, " Jim told her, smiling. True to hispromise, when the music began he danced mildly and moderately, andBrownie emerged from the ordeal in far better order than might havebeen expected. 

After that the evening flew. Dance after dance went by in rapidsuccession--for the guests were out to dance, and where no time iswasted in talking much may be done with a few hours. Cecil steadfastlydeclined any partner but Norah, and as that maiden had no mind to sparehim more than two, his evening was dull, since his sense of humour wasnot equal to finding any fun in the entertainment. He was the object ofconsiderable curiosity among the visitors, and was generally voted"stuck-up, " and "too big for his boots. " As for Jim and Wally, theyflung themselves cheerfully into the business of the night, and evensucceeded in making most of their partners talk, albeit this was adaring proceeding, and not looked upon with favour by the M. C. Theywere too popular, however, to come in for any real criticism, and beingregarded by the majority of the men as "just kids, " were allowed to dovery much as they liked. 

Supper was a majestic meal, spread on long tables in a big tent. Mr. Linton led the way to it with Mrs. Brown, followed by Mick Shanahan, who conveyed Norah much in the way he danced with her--as if she were apiece of eggshell china, and apt to crack with careless handling. Therewas no "head of the table"; every one sat in the place that seemedgood, and tongues flew as fast as the knives and forks. At the end Mr. Linton made a little speech. 

"My friends, " he said, "it's a great pleasure to Billabong to see youall here. I hope you'll keep it up till morning, and come again nextyear; you're always welcome. However, it is time my daughter went tobed. " (Dissent, and cries of "Not her!") "Before she goes, though, Iwould like to see one more dance. I move that our old friend AndyFerguson play the 'Royal Irish. '"

There was frantic applause, and supper adjourned hastily, while everyone hurried back to the loft; in the midst old Andy, his quaveringvoice a little raised in excitement, his fiddle held firmly in onehand. "Too old to work, " some called him, wondering why David Lintonkept the old fencer, when younger men were always wanting work onBillabong; and now, as he faced the long room with his faded blue eyesa little misty, Andy looked an old man indeed. But the pride of workwas in him, and his master knew it--knew how the gnarled hands ceased totremble when they grasped the adze and mattock, just as there was nowno quiver in them as he raised the brown fiddle and cuddled it underhis chin. Age would seize on Andy only when he could work and play nomore. The light came back into his eyes as he saw the boys and girlswaiting for the music--his music. 

He drew the bow lovingly across the strings, and swung into the Irishdance the old, common tune with the little gay lilt to it that gripsthe heart and makes the feet beat time, and has the power to wake oldmemories across the years. There were no memories to wake in the happyyoung hearts in the loft at Billabong that night. But Andy looked overthe heads of the dancers at his master, meeting his eyes as man to man, and each knew that the mind of the other had gone back to days longdead. 

The long floor echoed under the dancers' feet--up and down, swing in thecentre, hands across; the pace was always a good one when Andy Fergusonplayed the "Royal Irish. " One foot tapped out the time, and his greyhead nodded in sympathy with it. They called to him now and again, "Bravo, Andy! Good man, Andy! Keep it going!" and he smiled at thefriendly voices, watching them with the keenness of the Irishman for alight foot in a dance. 

Just before him, Mrs. Brown, dancing with Jim, was footing it in andout of the figures like a girl, holding her skirts quaintly on eitherside as she advanced and retired, and came back to sweep a curtsey thatshamed the quick bow of the younger generation, while the tall lad shehad nursed waited for her with a grave gentleness that sat prettily onhis broad shoulders. Near, too, the old man's eyes dwelt lovingly onNorah, whose eyes were dancing in time with her feet as Wally prancedher madly up and down, his own brown face glowing.... Just for a momentAndy saw "the little mistress" who had known her baby for so brief atime fourteen years before; her face looked at him through her child'sgrey eyes. He looked across at his master again, a little wistfully. 

The tune broke into "St. Patrick's Day, " and Murty O'Toole gave asudden involuntary shout, his hand above his head, Mick Shanahan echoedit; the Irish music was in their blood, and the old man with the brownfiddle had power to make them boys again. He, too, had gone back on thelilt of the tune; back to his own green country, where the man with thefiddle has his kingdom always, and the lads and lasses are hissubjects. There was a girl with blue Irish eyes, coming to meet him onSt. Patrick's morning... The tune wavered ever so little then, as hisheart cried out to her. Then the dream passed, and he knew that he wasa boy no more, but old Andy Ferguson, playing for the boys and girls inthe loft at Billabong. The bow moved faster and faster yet--only a goodpair could see him right through the "Royal Irish. " They were pantingwhen he dropped his hand at last and stood looking at them a littlevaguely. Then they crowded round him, thanking him. Even the Cunjeemusicians were saying that he could beat them all, and Miss Norah hadput her hand into his, and was patting his arm. There was a mist beforehim--he could not see them all, though he knew his triumph. 

"'Tis wid the kindness of all of y', " he murmured. "So good to me y'all are!"

David Linton's hand was on his shoulder. 

"Come on, old friend, " he said, gently; "we're getting old and we'retired, you and I. " He led him away, Norah still holding his hand. Behind them the music broke out again, cheerily, and the flying feetmade the loft echo until the dawn. 

CHAPTER X

CHRISTMAS

 O mellow air! O sunny light! O Hope and Youth that pass away, Print thou in letters of delight Upon each heart one glorious day! G. ESSEX EVANS. 

Norah woke up early. 

Close outside her open windows a magpie in the magnolia tree wascarolling as though he knew it was a special morning, and that he had aspecial message to deliver. The linen blinds were rolled tight up, andshe could see him near one of the great creamy blossoms, each bigenough for his bath; his black and white coat very spruce and smart, his head thrown back in utter enjoyment of his own song. Norah smiledat him sleepily from her pillow. 

"Nice old chap!" she said; and then she remembered. 

"Oh!--Christmas. " She gave a little happy laugh, for to-day was going tobe such a very good day. There was something that had taxed all herpatience; it was so hard to keep the secret until Christmas. Norah wasnot a very patient person by nature, and she was glad that the need forit was almost over. 

She turned over lazily, and then burst out laughing as something caughther eye at the foot of the bed--a huge football stocking, assumingextraordinary shapes by reason of strange packages within it, whilefrom the top a monkey on a stick grinned at her. Norah jumped up andbrought the stocking back to bed for examination, weak with laughterwhen she had finished. A big box of chocolates; a scarlet Christmascracker; a very flowery mug of thickest china, with "Love the Giver" onit, and tied to the handle a label with "For a Good Little Girl" in thebest handwriting of Wally, who evidently considered it not sufficientlyadorned by nature; a live frog in a glass-covered box; a huge bundle, which took her many minutes to unwrap, and was finally found to containa tiny pig of Connemara marble; a Christmas pudding the size of a golfball; and finally, in the very toe, a minute bottle labelled "CastorOil; Seasonable at Any Time. "

"Oh, you NICE donkeys!" said the recipient of these varied gifts, lyingback and investigating the chocolates. A sound at the window made herlook up, and Jim's laughing face peeped round the curtain. 

"Like 'em?"

"They're lovely, " said Norah, fervently. "Come in, Jimmy, you oldduffer. Merry Christmas!"

Jim came in, immensely tall and lean in his pyjamas, and sat down onthe bed. 

"Merry Christmas, old kid!" he said, and kissed her. "Taken your oil?"

"Pudding first--and chocolates, " said Norah, solemnly, indicating thebox. "Take lots, Jim, they're beauties. How did you get that thing intomy room?"

"Waited until I could hear your cheerful snores, and then sneaked in bythe window, " said her brother, dodging a chocolate. "My best stocking;I think I was jolly good to lend it to you--you'll kindly notice thatthe frog's box tore a hole in it, and take steps accordingly! It's aripping morning--but it's going to be hot. Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't, " said Norah. 

"Five o'clock, " said Jim; "isn't it ridiculous!--and you wide awake andplaying with pigs and frogs! I'm off to bed again for a bit--besides, young Wally's bursting to know how you liked your sock. Go to sleepagain, old chap. "

"I'll try, " said Norah, obediently, snuggling down, "Take somechocolates to Wally--and the castor oil!"

At the moment Norah was quite convinced that sleep was the last thingpossible for her, and merely laid down to please Jim, just as she wouldcheerfully have endeavoured to jump over the moon had he expressed anywish in that direction. Thus she was considerably surprised on wakingup two hours later to hear the dressing gong pealing through the house. Further off came the cheerful voices of Jim and Wally on their way tothe lagoon. Cecil preferred the bath in the house, saying that heconsidered it cleaner, which remark had incensed Norah at the time. Butthey were learning not to worry about Cecil's remarks, but to regardhim with a kind of mild toleration, as one who "could not help it. "

Norah tore in haste to the bath, and returning made a speedy toilet;breakfast was to be half an hour later than usual, but still there wasmuch to do. Her gifts to the men's quarters had gone over the nightbefore, in charge of Mrs. Willis; still there were parcels for thegirls in the house, together with the envelopes containing cheques forthem, which Mr. Linton always gave into Norah's care, and of courseBrownie's gifts, besides the nearer and dearer excitement of thebreakfast table. To the latter she attended first, scattering parcelsat each plate before any one else arrived on the scene. Then she racedoff, just escaping in the hall Jim, who immediately put his handsbehind him and began to whistle with great carelessness. Jim was a manof tact. 

Mrs. Brown, narrowly watching some fried potatoes, heard flyingfootsteps, and turned to receive Norah bodily. 

"Merry Christmas, Brownie, dear!" said the breathless one. She hungover the stout shoulders a tiny shawl of softest white wool. 

"It's only a shawl-let, " Norah explained, "just for when you feel thesummer evenings get cool, you know. "

"An' you made it, my precious!"

"Why, of course, " said Norah, lifting her brows; "do you think I'd buyit, when you taught me to knit? Ah, Brownie, I'm having such a goodtime!"

"Look at me!" said Mrs. Brown, sitting down in rapture, and forgettingher frying pan entirely. "This lovely shawl--an' your Pa's cheque--andhere's even Master Wally brung me down a cap, an' Master Jim--don't 'ealways think!--a frame with the photer 'e took of you an' your Pa, an'it's sollud silver, no less, if you'll believe me, an' then it's nonetoo good for the photer, but the dear lamb knew wot I'd like more thananything on earth! Of all the loving--kindest children--" At this pointBrownie's feelings overcame her, and she sniffed and, inhaling a threatof burnt potato, rushed to conceal her emotions over the stove. 

Sarah and Mary felt delighted with the pretty collars Mrs. Stephensonhad chosen for Norah in Melbourne; the daughter of the houseencountered Jim returning from the back regions, with a broad smile onhis brown face. Jim's invariable gift to Lee Wing was a felt hat, andas the Celestial still wore the one first given, eight Christmasesbefore, it was popularly supposed that the intermediate half-dozen wentto support his starving relatives in China! Lee Wing had nevermentioned the existence of any starving relatives, but Wally said itwas well known that all Chinese gardeners had them--speaking, as Norahremarked, as though it was a new complaint, like measles or mumps!

"You didn't give Wing another hat, Jim?" queried his sister. 

"I did, though, " returned Jim, firmly. "Asked him at midwinter whathe'd have, and he grinned and said, 'Allee same hat!' So he got it--alovely green one!"

"Jim!--not green! For Lee Wing!"

"There weren't any other colours left, " said Jim; "next year it wouldhave had to be pale blue! He took it with a heavenly smile, and lookedat it all over inside and out; then he looked down at his feet, and Ibeheld his toe sticking out of his boot. He didn't say 'Thank you' atall. What he did say was 'Nex'-Clis'mas-socks, ' all in one word, andyou couldn't have widened his smile without shifting his ears furtherback!"

"Merry Christmas, Norah, asthore!" said a cheerful voice, and Norahturned to greet Wally. So Wally had to hear the story of Lee Wing allover again, and they were laughing over it when Mr. Linton came out onthe verandah, pausing in the doorway a moment to look at the slenderfigure in the blue frock, with white collar and tie, and the tall ladsin white flannels beside her. 

Three greetings flashed at him simultaneously as he came into view. 

"Merry Christmas, every one!" he said, one hand on his small daughter'sshoulder. "Going to be a hot Christmas, too, I believe. Where's Cecil?"

"Coming, " said that gentleman, exchanging good wishes with a languidair. "Sorry to be late, but I couldn't open the bathroom door. "

Wally started. 

"Good gracious, was it you in there?" he asked anxiously. "I thought itwas Norah--and we wanted her out of the way at the moment, so Ibarricaded the door! Then I saw her afterwards, so I reckoned she'd gotout all right, and I never bothered to take down the barricade. I'mawfully sorry!"

Every one laughed but Cecil, who saw nothing humorous in having beenobliged to climb through the bathroom window, and said so with point. 

"I'm a fearful ass, truly, " said Wally, with contrition. "Norah, you'veno need to laugh like a hyena--you ought to have been there, if youweren't!"

"That's why I laugh, " Norah explained kindly. "Never mind, it'sChristmas--and there's breakfast!"

It was the gong, but not breakfast. Mrs. Brown knew better than to sendin the porridge with the gong on Christmas morning. Instead, the tablewas heaped with parcels, a goodly pile by every plate. 

"What an abominable litter!" said Mr. Linton, affecting displeasure. "Norah, kindly oblige me by getting those things out of your way. Howare you going to eat breakfast?"

"You're as bad as I am, Daddy!"

"Dear me!" said her father. "I seem to be. Well, yours is decidedly themost untidy, so you had better begin. "

They watched the eager face as Norah turned to her bundles. Books fromCecil and his mother; warm slippers made by Brownie; a halterexquisitely plaited from finest strips of hide by Murty O'Toole, thesight of which brought the whole gathering to Norah's side; from Wallya quaint little bronze inkstand, and from Jim the daintiest horse rugthat Melbourne could produce, made to fit Bobs, with a big scarlet B inone corner, and Norah's monogram in the other. "Not that he needs itjust now, " Jim explained, as Norah hugged him--"but a store's no sore, as Brownie'd say!" Last, a tiny velvet case, which concealed a brooch--athin bar of gold with one beautiful pearl. Norah did not need the slipof paper under it to know it came from Dad. 

Then things became merry, and even Cecil warmed at the gifts on hisplate, while the boys were exclaiming in delight over Norah's knitting, and Wally was shaking hands with Mr. Linton and lookinghalf-shamefacedly at the plain gold sleeve links from him and thesilver watch chain from Jim; and Mr. Linton's face was alight withpleasure at the waistcoat Norah had made for him, and the little oakbookshelf for his bedside that was the work of Jim's spare hours. Finally all the bundles were unwrapped, and there was a lull, thoughNorah's eyes were still dancing, and she exchanged glances with herfather. 

Jim spoke. 

"There's a string under my plate, " said he, faintly puzzled. "At least, there's one end. "

"Strings always have two ends, " said Wally, wisely. "Where's theother?"

"I'm blessed if I know, " said Jim. "It goes down to the floor. "

Wally came round, investigating. 

"Seems to me it goes out of the window, " he said. "Guess you'd betterfollow it, Jimmy. "

Jim looked round, a little doubtful. Then he saw Norah's face, and knewthat there was something he did not understand. He laughed a little. 

"Some one pulling my leg?" he asked, good-humouredly. "Oh, well, I'llchase it. "

The string went somewhere--that was evident. Outside it was at theheight of Jim's hand, and ran along the wall, so that it was easy tofollow. They trooped after him as he went along, Norah completelyunable to walk steadily, but progressing principally on one foot, whileDavid Linton's eyes were twinkling. The chase was not a long one; thestring suddenly cut across to the door in the high fence dividing thefront and back gardens, and there disappeared. 

"What next?" said Jim. 

"If it was me, " said Wally, with a fine disregard of grammar, "I shouldopen the door. "

"Good for you, Wally, " grinned Jim. "Here goes!" He flung the dooropen, and then stood as if rooted to the spot. 

The string went on. It ended, however, just through the door, where itsend was spliced to a halter, held by black Billy, whose smile disclosedevery tooth in his head. Fidgeting in the halter was a big bay horse, showing all Monarch's quality, and all his good looks; a show ringhorse, picked by a keen judge, and built for speed as well as strength. He looked at Jim with a kind eye, set well in his beautiful head. Therewas no flaw in him; from his heels to his fine, straight forelock hewas perfection. 

Jim had no words. He did not need to be told anything--Norah's face hadbeen enough; but he could not speak. He took refuge with the big bay, moving forward and putting out a hand, to which the horse respondedinstantly, rubbing his head against him in friendly fashion. Then, across the arched neck, Jim's eyes met his father's, and the colourflooded into his brown face. 

"Well, old son--will he do?"

"Do!" said Jim, weakly. "Dad!--by Jove, I--I--" He stopped helplessly;then his hand went out and took his father's in a grip that made DavidLinton realize that this big son of his was nearly a man. 

"Oh, Jimmy, I'm so glad--and isn't he lovely?"

"Why, he's perfect, " Jim said, stepping back and running his eye overhis Christmas box. "My word, Dad, he'll jump!"

"Yes, he'll jump all right, " said David Linton. "Gallop, too, I shouldsay. "

"Plenty!" said Billy, with unexpected emphasis, whereat every onelaughed. 

"Billy and Norah have had this little joke plotted for some time, " Mr. Linton said--"and the experiences they have undergone in keeping stringsand steed out of your way this morning have, I believe, whitened thehair of both!"

Jim looked gratefully round. 

"You're all bricks, " he said. "Has he got a name, Dad?"

"'A tearin' foine wan, ' Murty says, " responded his father; "since it'sIrish: Garryowen, unless you'd like to change it. "

"Not me!" said Jim. "I like it. " He looked round as the sound of thegong came across the garden. "I say, don't mind me, " he said--"go intobreakfast. I don't want any this morning. " His eye went back to thebay. 

"Rubbish!" said his father--"he'll be alive after breakfast! Comealong, " and reluctantly Jim saw Billy lead his horse away to thestable. He discovered, however, on reaching the breakfast room, that hewas remarkably hungry, and distinguished himself greatly with his knifeand fork. 

Afterwards it was necessary to try the bay's paces without delay, andthey all watched Jim take him round the home paddock. Garryowen movedbeautifully; and when Jim finally put him at the highest part of theold log fence, and brought him back again, he flew it with a foot tospare. The boy's face was aglow as he rode up. 

"Well, he's perfect!" he said. "I never was on such a horse. " He cameclose to his father. "Dad, " he said in a low tone--"are you sure youwouldn't like him instead of Monarch? He's far more finished. "

"Not for anything, thanks, old chap--I prefer my pupil, " said hisfather, his look answering more than his words. "You see he never buckswith me, Jim!"

Jim laughed, dismounting. "Like to try him, Cecil?"

"Thanks, " said Cecil, scrambling up and setting off down the paddock, while Jim watched him and writhed to think of possible damage to hishorse's back and mouth. Billy, who was near, said reflectively, "Plentybump!" and Murty O'Toole roundly rebuked Jim for "puttin' up an insultlike that on a good horse!" They breathed more freely when Cecil cameback, albeit the way in which he sawed at the bay's mouth wascalculated to strike woe to the heart of any owner. Then Wally triedGarryowen, and finally Norah, having flown to the house for a ridingskirt, had a ride also, and sailed over the log fence in a manner fullyequal to Jim's. She came back charged with high compliment. 

"He's nearly as good as Bobs, Jim!"

"Bobs!" said Jim, loftily. "We don't compare ponies with horses, mychild!"

"Then he's not to be compared with Bobs!" Norah retorted sturdily, and, the laugh being on her side, retired quickly to dress for dinner. 

Dinner was typical of Billabong, and an Australian Christmas--one withthe thermometer striving to reach the hundred mark. Everything wascold, from the mammoth turkey, with which Mr. Linton wrestled, to theiced peaches that topped off what the boys declared "a corking feed. "There was plum pudding, certainly, but it was cold, too. Wally found inhis piece no fewer than four buttons; and, deeply aggrieved, wentafterwards to remonstrate with Mrs. Brown, who was amazed, declaringshe had put in but one, which to her certain knowledge had fallen tothe unhappy lot of Sarah. Further inquiries revealed the fact that Jimhad come to the table well supplied with buttons, with which he hadcontrived to enrich Wally's portion as it travelled past him--which ledto a battle on the lawn, until both combatants, too well fed and weakwith mirth to fight, collapsed, and slept peacefully under a pine tree. 

Later on the horses were saddled, and every one rode out to the river, where Brownie and the maids had already been driven by Fred Anderson, and where they picnicked for tea. Afterwards they lay on the softgrass, with the water murmuring past them, and Mr. Linton told themstories--for Christmas was ever, and will ever be, the time for stories. Simple, straightforward tales, like the man himself: old Christmasesoverseas, and others in many parts of Australia--some that brought asadder note into the speaker's voice, and made Norah draw herself alongthe grass until she came within touch of his hand. Words were neverreally needed between them--being mates. 

So they stayed until the golden western sky had grown rose colour, andthe rose glow faded into night, that brought with it a little coolbreeze. Then the horses were saddled, and they rode home by the longestpossible way, singing every imaginable chorus, from Good Old Jeff tothe latest medley of pantomime ditties, and ending with a wild scurryacross the paddock home. They all trooped into the house, waking itsquietness to youth and laughter. 

But David Linton called to Norah. 

"Come on, " he said, "we'll finish up with the real Christmas songs. "

So they all gathered round the piano while Norah played, and joined inthe old Christmas hymns and carols--none the less hearty in that theysang of frost and snow with all around them the yellowing plain, driedup by the scorching sun, and, beyond that, the unbroken line of thelittle trodden Bush. The young voices rang out cheerily, David Lintonlistening in his armchair, his hand over his eyes. 

Norah was in bed when her father looked in, in passing, to saygood-night. She put up her face to him sleepily. 

"It's been a beautiful Christmas, Daddy dear!" she said. 

CHAPTER XI

"LO, THE POOR INDIAN!"

 I mind the time when first I came A stranger to the land. HENRY LAWSON. 

The house was unusually quiet. It was New Year's Day, and every man onthe place, and most of the maids, had gone off to a bush race meeting, ten miles away. Even Mrs. Brown had allowed herself to be persuaded togo and, arrayed in her best silk gown, had climbed laboriously into thehigh double buggy, driven by Dave Boone, and departed, waving to Noraha stout reticule that looked, Wally said, as though it containedsausages! Only Mary, the housemaid, remained. Mary was a prim soul, anddid not care for race meetings. She had remarked that she would stay athome and "crocher"!

Mr. Linton and the boys had ridden away after lunch. A valuable bullhad slipped down the side of a steep gully and injured himself, andbush surgery was required. David Linton was rather notable in thisdirection, and he had seen to it that Jim had had a thorough course ofveterinary training in Melbourne. Together they made, the squatterremarked, a very respectable firm of practitioners! Cecil and Wallywere ready to perform unskilled labour as required, and it was quitepossible that their help might be needed, since no men were available. So the picnic planned for the afternoon had had to be abandoned, andNorah was left somewhat desolate, since she could not take part in the"relief expedition. "

"Hard on you, old girl, " Jim had said; "but it can't be helped. "

"No, of course it can't, " Norah replied. She was well trained in theemergencies of the country, and would probably have been perfectlycheerful had this particular one only been something that would nothave excluded her. As it was, however, it was certainly disappointing, and she felt somewhat "at a loose end" as she watched the four rideoff. There seemed nothing for her to do. It was beyond doubt that beinga girl had its drawbacks. 

Within, the silence of the house was depressing, and the rooms seemedmuch too large. Norah saw to one or two odd jobs, fed some chickens, talked for a while to Fudge, the parrot, who was a companionable bird, with a great flow of eloquence on occasions, wrote a couple ofletters--always a laborious proceeding for the maid of the bush--andfinally arrived at the decision that there was nothing to do. In thekitchen Mary sat and "crochered" placidly at a fearful and wonderfulset of table mats. Norah watched her for a while, with a great scornfor the gentle art that could produce such monstrosities. Then shepractised for half an hour, and at length, taking a book, sauntered offto read by the creek. 

Meanwhile Mary worked on contentedly, unconscious of outer things, dreaming, perhaps, such dreams as may come to any one who makescrocheted table mats of green and yellow. Now and then she rose toreplenish the fire, returning to her needle in the far-away corner ofthe great kitchen, where Mrs. Brown's cane armchair always stood. Sheglanced up in surprise after a while, when a shadow fell across thedoorway. Then, for Mary was a girl with "nerves, " she jumped up with alittle scream. 

An Indian hawker stood there--a big, black-bearded fellow, in dustyclothes that had once been white, and on his head a turban of fadedpink. His heavy pack hung from his shoulder, but as the girl looked, heslipped it to the ground, and stood erect, with a grunt of relief. Thenhe grinned faintly at Mary, who had promptly put the table betweenthem, and asked the hawker's universal question:

"Anything to-day, Meesis?"

The Hindu hawker is still a figure to be met frequently in theBush--where he is, indeed, something of an institution. "Remote fromtowns he runs" a race that no poetical licence can stretch to completethe quotation by calling "godly. " He carries a queer mixture of goods--akind of condensed bazaar-stall from his native land, with silks andcottons, soaps, scents, boot laces and cheap jewellery, all packed intoa marvellously small space; and so he tramps his way through Australia. No life can be lonelier. His stock of English is generally barelyenough to enable him to complete his deals; the free and independentAustralian regards him as "a nigger, " and despises him accordingly;while the Hindu, in his turn, has in his inmost soul a scorn far deeperfor his scorners--the pride of tradition and of caste. It is the castethat keeps him rigidly to himself, since, as a rule, he can touch nofood that others have handled. He sits apart, over his own tiny fire, baking his unappetising little cakes; and in many cases even the shadowof a passer-by falling across his cookery is held to defile it beyondpossibility of his eating it. As a rule he has but one idea in life--tomake enough money to carry him back to end his days in comfort by thewaters of the Ganges. 

There are certain well recognized hawkers in many districts--men whohave kept for a long time to a particular beat, and may be regarded asfairly regular, and likely to turn up at each place at their routethree or four times a year. Such men have generally arrived at thedignity of a pack-horse--no unmixed benefit in the eyes of peopledriving, since most of the country horses are reduced to frenzy by thesight of the lean screw with his immense white pack--the hawker ismerciless to his horse--led by the "black" man in flapping clothes andgay turban. Still the regular hawkers are a more respectable class ofmen, and their visits are often eagerly welcomed by the housewife inthe lonely country, many miles from a township, who finds herselfconfronted with such problems as the necessity for lacing Johnny'sSunday boots with strips of green hide, or the more serious one of adearth of trouser-buttons for his garments. 

It is the casual hawker who is looked on with disfavour, and strikesterror to the heart of many women. He has very frequently no money andless principle; and being without reputation to sustain in thedistrict, is careless of his doings along a route that he probably doesnot intend to visit again. He knows perfectly well that women andchildren are afraid of him, and as a rule is very willing to work uponthat fear--though the sight of a man, or of a dog with character, issufficient to make him the most servile of his race. But where he meetsa lonely woman he is a very apparition of terror. 

There was one hawker who came regularly to Billabong; a cheery oldfellow, well known and respected, whose caste was not strict enough toprevent his refusing the station hospitality, and whose appearance wasalways welcome. He had been coming so long that he knew them all well, and took an almost affectionate interest in Jim and Norah, alwaysbringing some little gift for the latter. The men liked him, for he hadbeen known to "turn to" and work at a bush fire "as hearty as if heweren't a fat little image av a haythen, " said Murty O'Toole; Norah wasalways delighted when old Ram Das came up the track, his unwieldy bodyon two amazingly lean legs. Even Mary would not have been scared at hisappearance. 

But this was not Ram Das--this Indian who stood looking at her with thatqueer little half-smile, so different from the old man's wide andcheerful grin. It was a strange man, and a terrible one in Mary'ssight. She gaped at him feebly across the table, and he watched herwith keen, calculating eyes. Presently he spoke again, this time alittle impatiently. 

"You ask-a meesis annything to-day?"

"Nothin' to-day, " said Mary, quickly and nervously. 

"You ask-a meesis. "

"She don't want anything, " the girl quavered. 

"You ask-a. "

"I tell you she don't want anything--there ain't any missis, " Mary said. He looked at her unbelievingly, and broke into a speech of brokenEnglish that was quite unintelligible to the frightened girl behind thetable. Then, as she did not answer him, he came a few steps nearer. 

It was more than enough for Mary. She gave a terrified shriek and ranfor the nearest cover--the half-open door of the back kitchen behindher. She banged it violently as she dashed through. There was no lockon the door, so she could not stay there--but the window stood open, andMary went through it with all the nimbleness of fear. She came out intothe yard where the way lay clear to the house; and across the spacewent Mary, cometwise, a vision of terror and flying cap strings, eachmoment expecting to hear pursuing feet. Puck, the Irish terrier, sleeping peacefully on the front verandah, leapt to his feet at thesudden bang of the back door, and came dashing through the house insearch of the cause. Mary, half sobbing, welcomed him with fervour. 

"Good dog, Puck!" she said. She reconnoitred through the nearestwindow. 

The Indian had come out of the kitchen, and now stood on the backverandah, his dark face working. He looked uncertainly about him. Thenthe back door opened a few inches--just so far that an enthusiasticIrish terrier could squeeze through--and Mary's voice came. 

"Good dog, Puck!--sool 'im!"

The door banged again, and the heavy lock shot home. Mary flew back tothe window, shutting and locking it frantically. She watched. 

Puck wasted no time. He dashed at the hawker, with every fightinginstinct aroused, and the Hindu leaped back quickly, seizing with onehand a broom that leaned against the wall. He met the terrier'sonslaught with a savage blow that sent the little dog head over heelsyards away. Puck picked himself up and came again like a whirlwind. Then Mary screamed again, for the Hindu dropped the broom, andsomething flashed in the sunlight--a long knife that came swiftly fromsome hiding place in his voluminous draperies. He crouched to meet thedog, his eyes gleaming, his lips drawn back from his teeth. 

Puck was no fool. He arrested himself almost in midair, and plantedhimself just out of the hawker's reach, his whole enraged little body avision of defiance, and barked madly. The Indian moved backwards, uttering a flood of furious speech, while for each step that he movedthe terrier advanced another. Then Mary's heart gave a sudden leap; forthe hand that held the knife suddenly went behind him as he reached forhis pack and swung it to his shoulder. Puck was nearly upon him in themoment that the knife no longer menaced, but the Hindu was quick; andagain the little dog drew back, rending the air with his barking. Slowly the man backed off the verandah and along the path to the yardgate, Puck following every step, loathing with all his fury that unfairadvantage of gleaming steel that kept him from his enemy. The Hindubacked through the gate, and slammed it in the terrier's face, spittinga volley of angry words as he went. Mary flung the window open andcalled her protector anxiously, lest he should find some means of exitand leave her alone; and Puck came back a few steps, turning again tobark at his retreating foe. The tall form in the dusty clothes wentslowly down the track. Mary watched him out of sight. Then she fled toher own room, locked herself in securely, and went, very properly, intohysterics. 

Meanwhile, at the creek, Norah was nodding sleepily over her book. Itwas hot, and naturally a lazy day; everything seemed sleepy, from thecows lying about under the willows on the banks to the bees droningoverhead. Tait, near her, was snoring gently. Even the water belowseemed to be rippling more lazily than usual; the splash of a leapingfish made an unusual stir in the stillness. Moreover, her book was notcalculated to keep her awake. It was poetry, and Norah's soul did notincline naturally to poetry, unless it were one of Gordon's stirringrhymes, or something equally Australian in character. This was quitedifferent, but it had been Cecil's Christmas gift, and it had seemed toNorah that politeness required her to study it. 

"It's the rummiest stuff!" said the Bush damsel, hopelessly. She turnedto the cover, a dainty thing of pale blue and gold. "William Morris?Didn't we have a stockman once called Bill Morris? But I'm prettycertain he never wrote this. The name's the same, though!" thoughtNorah, uncertainly. She turned back, and read anew, painstakingly:

 No meat did ever pass my lips Those days. (Alas! the sunlight slips From off the gilded parclose dips, And night comes on apace. )

"Then I'm positive it wasn't our Bill Morris, 'cause I never saw astockman who was a vegetarian. But what's a parclose? I'll have to askCecil; but then he'll think me such a duffer not to know, and he'll beso awfully patronizing. But what on earth does it all mean?"

She closed the book in despair, let her eyelids droop, and nodded alittle, while the book in its blue and gold cover slipped from her kneeto the grass. It was much easier to go to sleep than to read WilliamMorris. What a long time Dad and the boys were, doctoring Derrimut! Itwas certainly dull. 

A quick bark from Tait startled her. The collie had jumped up, and wasbristling with wrath at an unusual spectacle coming through the treestowards her--a tall man, with a face of dusky bronze, surmounted by apink turban. His face was working angrily, and he muttered as hewalked, slowly, as if the pack on his shoulder were heavy. When Taitbarked he started for a moment, but then came on steadily--a collie israrely as formidable as an Irish terrier. 

Norah paled a little. She was not timid, but no Australian girl takesnaturally to an encounter with a Hindu and there was no doubt that thisman was in a very bad temper. The place was lonely, too, and out ofsight of the house, even if she had not been painfully conscious thatthere was not a man on the place should she need help. Still, there wasnothing to be gained by running. She backed against the tree, keepingone hand on Tait's collar as the man came up. 

"What do you want?"

He stopped, and the pack slipped to the grass. Then he broke into aflood of rapid speech in his own tongue, gesticulating violently;occasionally indicating the house with a sweep of his hand in thatdirection. As he talked he worked himself up to further wrath--his voicerose almost to a shout sometimes, and his face was not pleasant to see. Once or twice he held his left hand out, and Norah saw that it wasbandaged. 

For a minute or two she was badly frightened. Then, watching him, shesuddenly came to the conclusion that she had nothing to fear--that hewas telling her something he wanted her to know. She listened, tryinghard to catch some word in the flood of fluent foreign speech, andtwice she thought she made out the name of Ram Das. Then he finishedabruptly with almost the one word of Hindustani she knew, since it wasone the old hawker had taught her. "SUMJA, " ("Do you understand?") hehurled at her. 

Norah shook her head. 

"No, I don't 'SUMJA, '" she said: but her tone was friendly, and some ofthe anger melted from the Indian's face, and was succeeded by a quickrelief. "Can't you speak English? You know Ram Das--Ram Das?" sherepeated, hoping that the name might convey something to him. To herimmense relief, the effect was instantaneous. 

"Know Ram Das, " said the man, struggling for words. "Him--him. " He sweptthe horizon vaguely with his hand. 

"I know Ram Das, " Norah put in. "Him good man. "

The Hindu nodded violently. His face was natural again, and suddenly hesmiled at her. "You a meesis?" he asked. "Ram Das say l'il meesis. "

"I'm little meesis, " Norah said promptly. It was the old man's titlefor her. "Did Ram Das send you?"

"Him send me, " said the man, with evident pleasure in finding the word. He struggled again for English, but finally gave it up, and held outhis left hand to her silently. 

"Why, you're hurt!" Norah said. "Is that why Ram Das sent you?"

He nodded again, and began to unroll the long strip of cotton stuffround his hand and wrist. It took a long time, and at last he had to godown to the water and bathe the stiffened rag before it would comeaway. Then he came back to Norah and held it out again--a long, hideousgash right up the wrist, torn and swollen and inflamed. 

"Oh!" said Norah, drawing back a pace, instinctively. "You poor fellow!How did you do it?"

"Barb wire, " said the Indian, simply. "Three days. Him bad. Ram Das, him say you help. " With this stupendous effort of eloquence he becamespeechless again, still holding the torn wrist out to her. 

"I should think so!" said Norah, forgetting everything in the sight ofthat cruel wound. "Come on up to the house quickly!" She turned to leadthe way, but the man shook his head. 

"Woman there, " he stammered. 

"It's all right, " Norah told him. "Come along. "

"Small dog, " said the Hindu, unhappily. "Them afraid of me. " He pointedtowards the house. "Been there. "

"Oh-h!" said Norah, suddenly comprehending. She knew Mary. Then shelaughed. "You come with me; it's all right. " She led the way, and thehawker followed her. A few yards further on, Norah bethought herself ofsomething, and turned back. 

"You must have that covered up, " she told him. "No, not with that awfulrag again, " with a faint shudder. She took out her handkerchief andwrapped it lightly round the man's wrist. "That'll do for thepresent--come on. "

Puck, still in a state of profound indignation in the back yard, wasthrown into a paroxysm of fury at the sight of his enemy returning. Norah had to chain him up before the Hindu would come inside the gate. Then she led the way to the kitchen and called Mary. 

No Mary answered, so Norah went about her preparations alone--a bigbasin of hot water, boracic acid--standby of the Bush--soft rags, andointment from the "hospital drawer" Mrs. Brown kept always ready. Sheshuddered a little as she began to bathe the wound, while the Indianwatched her with inscrutable face, never flinching, though the pain wasno small thing. It was done at last--cleansed, anointed, and carefullybandaged. Then he smiled at her gratefully. 

"Ram Das him say you good, " he said. "Him truth!"

Norah laughed, somewhat embarrassed. 

"Hungry?" she asked. "You take my food?"

It was always a delicate question, since the Hindu is easily offendedover a matter of caste. This man, however, was evidently as independentas Ram Das, for he nodded, and when Norah brought him food, fell towork upon it hungrily. 

Thus it was that Mary, brought from the hysterical sanctuary of herroom by the pressing sense of the necessity of looking after thekitchen fire, and coming back to her duties like a vestal of old, foundher dreaded enemy cheerfully eating in the kitchen, while Norah satnear and carried on a one-sided conversation with every appearance offriendliness, with Tait sleepily lying beside her--at which astonishingspectacle Mary promptly shrieked anew. The Hindu rose, smilingnervously. 

"Come here, you duffer, Mary!" said Norah, who by this time had arrivedat something of an understanding of the previous happenings. "He's astame as tame. Why, old Ram Das sent him!"

"Miss Norah, he's got a knife on him!" said Mary, in a sepulchralwhisper. "I saw it with me own eyes. He nearly killed Puck with it!"

"Well, Puck was trying to kill him, " said Norah, "and I guess if youhad a wrist like his, you'd defend yourself any way you could, if Puckwas at you! He's terribly sorry he frightened you--you didn't understandhim, that was all. Ram Das sent him to have his wrist fixed up, and hisname's Lal Chunder, and he's quite a nice man!"

"H'm!" said Mary doubtfully, relaxing so far as to enter the kitchen, but keeping a respectful distance from the hawker, who took no furthernotice of her, going on with his meal. "I don't 'old with them blackcreechers in any shape or form, Miss Norah, an' it's my belief he'dkill us all in our beds as soon as wink! Scarin' the wits out of one, with his pink top-knot arrangement--such a thing for a man to wear!Gimme white Orstralia!"

"Look out, he'll hear you!" said Norah, laughing. "He--"

"What talk is this?" said a cheerful voice; and Ram Das, very plump, very hot and very beaming, came in at the kitchen door, and stoodlooking at them. "I sent this young man to the li'l meesis, for that hewas hurt and in pain, and I know the fat woman is kind, and has thebrassic-acid. " He glanced at Lal Chunder's bandaged wrist, and shot aquick question at him in their own tongue, to which the otherresponded. The old man turned back to Norah, not without dignity. 

"We thank the l'il meesis, " he said. "Lal Chunder is as my son: hecannot speak, but he will not forget. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said Norah, turning a lively red. "It wasn'tanything, really, Ram Das--and his wrist was terribly sore. You'll bothcamp here to-night, won't you? And have some tea--I'm sure you want it, it's so hot. "

"It will be good, " said Ram Das, gratefully, sitting down. Then voicesand the sound of hoofs and the chink of bits came from outside; andpresently Mr. Linton and the boys came in, hot and thirsty. 

Cecil's eyebrows went up as he beheld his cousin carrying a cup to thestout old Hindu. 

"It's the most extraordinary place I was ever at, " he told himselflater, dressing for dinner, in the seclusion of his own room. From thegarden below came shouts and laughter, as Jim engaged Norah and Wallyin a strenuous set on the tennis court. "Absolutely no class limitswhatever, and no restrictions--why, she kept me waiting for my secondcup while she looked after that fat old black in the dirty whiteturban! As for the boys--childish young hoodlums. Well, thank goodnessI'm not condemned to Billabong all my days!" With which serenereflection Mr. Cecil Linton adjusted his tie nicely, smoothed arefractory strand of hair in his forelock, and went down to dinner. 

CHAPTER XII

OF POULTRY

 A man would soon wonder how it's done, The stock so soon decreases! A. B. PATERSON

"Where are you off to, Norah?"

"To feed the chickens. "

"May I come with you, my pretty maid?"

"Delighted!" said Norah. "Here's a load for you. "

"Even to stagger under thy kerosene tin were ever a joy!" respondedWally, seizing the can of feed as he spoke--the kerosene tin of thebush, that serves so many purposes, from bucket to cooking stove, andmay end its days as a flower pot, or, flattened out, as roofing iron. "Anyhow, you oughtn't to carry this thing, Norah; it's too heavy. Whywill you be such a goat?"

Under this direct query, put plaintively, Norah had the grace to lookabashed. 

"Well, I don't, as a rule, " she said. "It's really Billy's job to carryit for me, but Jim has been coming with me since he came home, so ofcourse young Billy's got out of hand. And Jim's gone across with Dad tosee old Derrimut, so I had no one. I looked for you and couldn't findyou. And I asked Cecil politely to accompany me, but he put hiseyebrows up, and said fowls didn't interest him. Oh, Wally, don't youthink it's terribly hard to find subjects that do interest Cecil?"

"Hard!" said Wally expressively. "Well, it beats me, anyhow. But thenCecil regards me with scorn and contumely, and, to tell you the truth, Nor. , when I see him coming I quiver like--like a blancmange! He's soawfully superior!"

"You know, I'm sure he's not enjoying himself, " Norah went on; "and itreally worries us, 'cause we hate to think of anyone being here and nothaving a good time. But he does keep his nose so in the air, doesn'the?"

"Beats me how you're so nice to him, " Wally averred. "My word, it woulddo that lad good to have a year or two at our school! I guess it wouldtake some of the nonsense out of him. Was he ever young?"

"I shouldn't think so, " Norah said, laughing--"he has such a loftycontempt for anything at all juvenile now. Well, at least he's lookingbetter than when he came, so Billabong is doing him good in one way atany rate, and that is a comfort. But I'm sure he's counting the daysuntil he goes away. "

"Well, so am I, " said Wally, cheerfully. "So at least there are two ofus, and I should think there were several more. It's pleasant to findeven one subject on which one can be a twin-soul with Cecil. Norah"--solemnly--"I have counted eleven different pairs of socks on thatJohnny since I came, and each was more brilliant than the last!"

"I don't doubt it, " Norah laughed. "They're the admiration of thelaundry here, and even the men stopped and looked at them as they werehanging on the line last week. Dave Boone was much interested in thatgreen pair with the gold stripes, and asked Sarah what football clubthey belonged to!"

"Great Scott!" said Wally explosively. "Can you imagine Cecil playingfootball?"

"I can't--I wish I could, " Norah answered. "Well, never mind Cecil--he'sa tiring subject. Tell me what you think of my chicks. "

Norah's special fowl yard was a grassy run divided into two parts, withsmall houses and wire-netted enclosures in each. At present one wasdevoted to a couple of mothers with clutches of ten and twelvechickens--all white Orpingtons. The mothers were stately, comfortabledames, and the chicks, round little creamy balls, very tame andfascinating. They came quite close to Norah as she stooped to feedthem, and one chick, bolder than his brethren, even stood on the backof her hand. Wally admired without stint, and proceeded to dischargethe practical duty of rinsing out the water tins and filling themafresh. 

In the other yard a number of older chickens grew and prospered; thesealso were all white, of the Leghorn breed, and Norah was immenselyproud of them. She sat down on the end of a box and pointed out theirvaried beauties. 

"I should have more--lots more, " she said, dolefully. "But I've hadhorrible trouble with pigs. Why anybody keeps pigs at all I can'timagine!"

"They're handy when preserved, " Wally remarked. "But what did they doto you?"

"I had a lot of hens sitting this year, " said the owner of theyard--"sitting on lovely eggs, too, Wally! Some I got from Cunjee, andsome from Westwood, and two special sittings from Melbourne. I wasgoing to be awfully rich! You couldn't imagine all I'd planned with theimmense sums I was going to make. "

"There's a proverb, " said Wally, sententiously, "about counting yourchickens. "

"You're quite the twelfth person who's mentioned that, " Norah said, with some asperity. "Anyhow, I never counted them; I only became richin a vague way, and it was very comforting. I'm glad I had thatcomfort, for it was all I had. "

"Norah, you thrill my very soul with awful fears, " Wally gasped. "Tellme the worst!"

"Donkey!" said Norah, unsympathetically. "Well, they were set. I fixedup the boxes myself, and lined them so beautifully that when they wereready, and the eggs in, it was all I could do to prevent myself sittingon them!"

"I know, " Wally nodded. "And then the hens wouldn't sit, would they?They never do, when you make the nests especially tempting. I had anold Cochin once who used to sit quite happily for six months at a timeon a clod and a bit of stone, expecting to hatch out a half-acreallotment and a town hall; but if you put her on twelve beautiful eggsshe simply wouldn't look at them! Makes you vow you'll give up keepinghens at all. "

"It would, " Norah said. "Only mine didn't do that. "

"Oh!" said Wally, a little blankly. "What did they do, then?"

"Sat--"

"And ate the eggs--I know, " Wally burst in. "My old brute used to eatone a day if you got her to sit. I remember once it was a race betweenher and the eggs, and I used to haunt the nest, wondering would she get'em all eaten before they hatched. They beat her by one--one poor chickcame out. The shock was too much for the old hen, and she deserted it, and I poddied it in a box for a week, and called it Moses, and it wouldeat out of my hand, and then it died!" He gasped for breath, and Norahgazed with undisguised admiration at the orator. 

"So I know how you'd feel, " Wally finished. 

"I might--but my hens weren't cannibals. They didn't eat any. "

"You had luck, " said the unabashed Wally. "Well, what happened?"

"They sat quite nicely--"

"And the eggs were addled, weren't they? It's always the way with halfthese swagger sittings you buy from dealers. They--"

"Oh, Wally, I WISH you wouldn't be so intelligent!" said Norah, withnot unnatural heat. "How am I ever going to tell you?"

"Why, I thought you were telling me as hard as ever you could!" Wallyresponded, visibly indignant "Well, fire away; I won't speak anotherword!"

"I don't think you could help it, " Norah laughed. "However, I'd eighthens sitting, and I really do believe that they understood theirresponsibilities, for they set as if they were glued, except when theycame off for necessary exercise and refreshment. Even then, they nevergave me any of the usual bother about refusing to go back into theright box, or scratching the eggs out. They behaved like perfectladies--I might have known it was too bright to last!" She heaved asigh. 

"I know you're working up to some horrible tragedy, and I'm sure Iwon't be able to bear it!" said her hearer, much agitated. "Tell me theworst!"

"So they sat--"

"You said that before!"

"Well, they sat before--and after, " said Norah, unmoved. "Two of thembrought their eggs out, beautiful clutches, twelve in one and thirteenin the other. Such luck! I used to be like the old woman who pinchedherself and asked, 'Be this I?' They all lived in a fox-proofyard--fence eight feet high with wire-netting on top. I wasn't leavinganything to chance about those chicks. "

"Was it cholera? Or pip?"

"Neither, " said Norah. "They were the very healthiest, all of them. Thechickens grew and flourished, and when they were about a week old, theother six hens were all about to bring out theirs within two days. Oh, Wally, I was so excited! I used to go down to the yard about a dozentimes a day, just to gloat!"

"Never gloat too soon, " said Wally. "It's a hideous risk!"

"I'm never going to gloat again at all, I think, " said Norah, mournfully. The recital of her woes was painful. "So I went down onemorning, and found them all happy and peaceful; the six old ladiessitting in their boxes, and the two proud mammas with their chicks, scratching round the yard and chasing grasshoppers. It was, " saidNorah, in the approved manner of story-tellers, "a fair and joyousscene!"

"'Specially for the grasshoppers!" commented her hearer. "And then--?"

"Then I went out for a ride with Dad, and I didn't get back until latein the afternoon. I let Bobs go, and ran down to the fowl yard withoutwaiting to change my habit. " Norah paused. "I really don't know that Ican bring myself to tell you any more!"

"If you don't, " said Wally, indignantly, "there'll certainly bebloodshed. Go on at once--

 "Am I a man on human plan Designed, or am I not, Matilda?"

"H'm, " said Norah. "Well, I'm not Matilda, anyway! However, I openedthe gate of the yard. And then I stood there and just gaped at what Isaw. "

"Dogs?"

"Our dogs are decently trained, " Norah said, much offended. "No, itwasn't dogs--it was pigs!"

"Whew-w!" whistled Wally. 

"Pigs. They had burrowed in right under the fence; there was a greatbig hole there. And they'd eaten every chicken, and every egg in theyard. My lovely boxes were all knocked over, and the nests torn tobits, and there wasn't so much as an eggshell left. The poor old henswere just demented--they were going round and round the yard, cluckingand calling, and altogether like mad things. And in the middle of itall, fat and happy and snoring--three pigs!"

"What did you do?" Wally felt that this case was beyond the reach ofordinary words of sympathy. 

"Couldn't do anything. I chased the beasts out of the yard, and threweverything I could find at them--but you can't hurt a pig. And Dad washorrid--advised me to have them killed, so that at least we could haveeggs and bacon!" Norah laughed, in spite of her woebegone tone. 

"And he calls himself a father!" said Wally, solemnly. 

"Oh, he wasn't really horrid, " Norah answered. "He wrote off to townand bought me a very swagger pair of Plymouth Rocks--just beauties. Theycost three guineas!"

"Three guineas!" said the awestruck youth. "What awful waste! Where arethey, Norah? Show me them at once!"

"Can't, " Norah responded, sadly. 

"You don't mean--?"

"Oh, I've had a terrible year with fowls, " said the dejected poultrykeeper. "Those Plymouth Rocks came just before the Cunjee show, and Dadentered them for me, 'cause the dealer had told him they would beatanything there. And I think they would have--only just after he sold Dadmine, a Cunjee man bought a pair for five guineas. He showed his, too!"Norah sighed. 

"Oh!" said Wally. 

"So I got second. However, they were very lovely, and so tame. I wastruly fond of Peter. "

"Why Peter?"

"Oh, Peter means a Rock, " said Norah. "I heard it in a sermon. He was abeautiful bird. I think he was too beautiful to live, 'cause he becameill--I don't know what it was, but he pined away. I used to nurse himever so; for the last two days of his poor young life I fed him everyhour with brandy and strong soup out of the spout of the invalidfeeder. Brownie was quite annoyed when she found I'd used it for him, "said Norah, reflectively. 

"But he was an invalid, wasn't he?" asked Wally. 

"Of course he was--and it's an invalid feeder. I don't see what it'sfor, if not for the sick. But it didn't do him any good. I went outabout ten o'clock one night and wrapped him in hot flannel, and he wasrattling inside his poor chest; and in the morning I went out at fiveand he was dead!"

"Poor old Nor. !"

"So I tied a bit of black stuff on the gate and went back to bed, " saidNorah, pensively. 

Wally grinned. "And what became of Mrs. Peter?"

"Oh, Mrs. Peter was a lovely hen, " Norah said, "and very healthy. Shenever seemed to feel any of Peter's delicacy. He was a very refinedbird. There was another show coming on at Mulgoa, and I found among theother fowls another Mr. Peter, and it struck me I would have a try forthe prize. Mrs. Peter was so good that I felt I'd get it unless thefive-guinea Plymouth Rock man came up. So I fed up the new Peter andhad them looking very well the day before the show. And then--"

"Yes?" said Wally, as she paused. 

"Then a new dog of Burton's killed Mrs. Peter, " said Norah, "so I gaveup showing poultry!"

"I should think you did, " said the sympathetic auditor. "What did yourfather say?"

"He was very nice; and very angry with the dog; but he didn't buy meany more valuable fowls--and I expect that was just as well, " saidNorah, laughing. "I don't seem to have luck when it comes to keepingpoultry. Jim says it's management, but then Jim never kept any himself. And it does make a difference to your views if you keep them yourself. "

"It does, " Wally agreed. "I used to lose ever so many in Queensland, but then things are really rough on fowls up there--climate and snakesand lots of odd things, including crocodiles! When I came down toschool I left a lot of hens, and twelve eggs under one old lady hen, who should have hatched 'em out a few days after I left. And the wholelot went wandering and found some poison my brother had put out for acat!" Wally wiped his eyes elaborately. 

"And died?"

"It was suicide, I think, " said Wally, nodding. "But I always hadcomfort about that lot, because I still have hopes that those twelveeggs hadn't hatched. "

"I don't see what that has to do with it, " Norah said, plainly puzzled. 

"Why, don't you understand? If they hatched I must have lost them alongwith the others; but if they didn't hatch, I didn't lose so many, for, not having them to lose, I couldn't very well lose them, could I?Q. E. D. !" finished Wally, triumphantly. "That's Philosophy!"

"You're a credit to your teachers, old man, " said a new voice; and Jimmade his appearance behind the fence, over which he proceeded to climblaboriously. 

"Yes, I'm a nice boy, " said modest Mr. Meadows. "Sometimes I think youdon't appreciate me--"

"Perish the thought!" said Jim, solemnly. 

"But I always feel that honest worth will tell in the end, " finishedWally. "Jim, you great, uncivilized rogue, unhand me!" There was astrenuous interlude, during which the Leghorn chicks fled shrieking tothe farthest corner of their domain. Finally Jim stepped unwittingly, in the joy of battle, into the kerosene tin, which was fortunatelyempty, and a truce was made while he scraped from a once immaculatebrown leather legging the remains of the Leghorns' breakfast. 

"Serve you right, " said Wally, adjusting his tie, which hadmysteriously appeared under his right ear. "Norah and I were talkingbeautifully, and you hadn't any business to come poke your nose in, ifyou couldn't behave, had he Nor. ?" Whereat Norah and Jim grinnedcheerfully at each other, and Wally collapsed, remarking withindignation that you couldn't hope to get justice for either of theLinton twins when it came to dealing with the other. 

"We're not twins!" said Norah. 

"No, " said her guest, "I think you're worse!" Withdrawing, he sat inmelancholy isolation on a hen coop, and gave himself up, veryappropriately, to brooding. 

"Well, I'm sorry if I broke up the party, " Jim said, relinquishing thetask of polishing his leggings with marshmallow leaves and looking atits streaked surface disconsolately. Jim might--and did--scorn coats andwaistcoats in the summer, and revel in soft shirts and felt hats; buthis riding equipment was a different matter, and from Garryowen's bitand irons to his own boots, all had to be in apple pie order. "Norah, may I have your hanky to rub this up? No? You haven't one! Well, I'msurprised at you!" He rubbed it, quite ineffectually, with the crown ofhis hat, and still looked pained. "Never mind, I'll get hold of sometan stuff when I go in. What I came to say when you attacked me, youngWally--"

"When I attacked you! I like that!" spluttered the justly indignantWally. 

"Didn't you? I thought you did, " grinned Jim. "My mistake, I suppose. Well, anyhow, when you attacked Norah--quiet, Wally, bother you; how cana fellow get a word out?--what I came to mention was that Dad wants us. "

"Oh!" said Norah, gathering herself up. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"Too busy, and you and Wal. Do prattle so. Anyhow, he's not in atearing hurry, 'cause he said he was going to have an hour at hisincome-tax--and you know what that means. "

"Solitude is always best for Dad when he's income-taxing, " said Norah. "It has the most horrible effect on his usual serenity. My dear oldHermit used to help him, of course; but now--well, no wonder he'sstarting early! How's Derrimut, Jimmy?"

"Going on splendidly; Dad and I are quite proud of ourselves as vets. , "said her brother. "We made quite a good job of the old chap; I believehe'll hardly have a blemish. By George, you should have seen Cecil atthat operation! He had one rope to hold and he was scared to death. "

"So was I, " said Wally, grinning. "I was always as timid as a rabbit. "

"You!" said Jim, laughing. "Well, you held three ropes, anyway, and Ididn't notice that you looked pale. "

"My face won't let me, " said his chum. "But I FELT pale!"

"Well Cecil looked and felt it, " Jim said. "Of course, you don'texactly blame a town chap for not taking to that sort of thing like aduck to water. Still, there's a limit--and I'll swear Norah would havemade a fuss. As far as that goes, Dad says he's known our grandmother, in the early days, have to help at a much worse job for a beast thanfixing up old Derry's leg. Lots of women had to. They wouldn't like it, of course, but they certainly wouldn't have made it harder for the manthey were helping by putting on frills!"

"Well, you'd hate to have to get a woman to do a job like that. "

"Of course you would. You'd never do it unless it came to a question ofsaving a beast or easing its pain. But if it did come to the point, adecent woman with backbone would lend a hand, just as she's help if itwas the man himself that was hurt. At least, most Australian womenwould, or most of those in the country, at any rate. I'd disown Norahif she didn't. "

"I should hope so!" said Norah, quietly. 

"At the same time, I've not the remotest intention of employing you asa vet. , old woman, " said Jim, untying her hair ribbons in a brotherlyfashion. "Quite enough for you to act in that capacity for that rumbeggar, Lal Chunder--who's departed, by the way, leaving you hisblessing and a jolly little brass tray. The blessing was ratherunintelligible, but there's no doubt about the tray. "

"Bother!" said Norah, vexedly. "Silly man! I don't want him to give mepresents--and that wound of his ought certainly to have been lookedafter for a few days. "

"He said he was going to travel with Ram Das--and old Ram'll see that heties it up, I expect, " said Jim, with unconcern. "I wouldn't bother, old first-aid; it looked tip-top when you dressed it before breakfast. "

"I'd have given him rag for it, anyway, " said Norah, still troubled. 

"He can always tear half a yard or so off that turban of his, " Jimsaid. "Don't go out of your way to meet worry, my girl--it'll alwayscome quickly enough to meet you. Which is philosophy quite equal toWally's!" He sighed. "Here's trouble coming to meet us now, that'scertain!"

CHAPTER XIII

STATION DOINGS

 I see as I stand at the slip-rails, dreaming, Merry riders that mount and meet; Sun on the saddles, gleaming, gleaming, Red dust wrapping the horses' feet. W. H. OGILVIE

They had turned the corner of the house leading to the verandah offwhich Mr. Linton's office opened, and where that gentleman waspresumably to be found, wrestling with the intricacies of hisincome-tax schedule--the squatter's yearly bugbear. Along this verandahcame, slowly, Cecil, beautiful to behold in a loose brown suit, withbuff coloured shirt and flowing orange tie. Wally cast a swift glanceat his ankles, and chuckled. 

"He's got new socks on!" he said, in a sepulchral whisper. 

"Shut up, you duffer--he'll hear you!" Jim said. He raised his voice. "Looking for us, Cecil?"

"Yes, " Cecil drawled. "Uncle David asked me to find you. Fedthe--ah--poultry, Norah?"

"Yes, thank you, " said that damsel. 

"Awfully uninteresting things, fowls, " said Cecil, turning and walkingback with them. "Noisy and dirty--I can't imagine you bothering yourhead over them. "

"They're not dirty when they're kept properly, " Norah said, a littlewarmly. "And I don't think any animal's uninteresting if you look afterit yourself. Of course, if you do nothing more than eat them--"

"I assure you that's all I care to do!" said Cecil. At this point, theyarrived at the door of the office, which was perhaps as well, and foundMr. Linton half submerged in a sea of stock returns, books, andbill-files. 

"Oh, here you are, " he said, smoothing the furrows out of his brow tosmile at Norah. "I had an idea I sent you for the others some time ago, Jim. "

Jim looked somewhat sheepish. 

"Yes. " He admitted, laughing. "Fact is, I--I got into a kerosene tin!"He glanced at his left leg expressively. 

"I see, " said his father, with a smile. "Well, I don't know that itmatters--only a note has just come out from Anderson, and his chauffeuris waiting for an answer. It seems Cunjee is playing Mulgoa in a greatcricket match on Thursday, and they're short of men. They want to knowif they can recruit from Billabong. "

"Good business!" said Jim, joyfully, while Wally hurrahed below hisbreath. "But will they let us play, Dad--Wal. And me?"

"Oh, they've fixed that up with the Mulgoa fellows, " said his father. "It's all right. They're kind enough to ask me to play, but it's out ofthe question--even if I weren't approaching senile decay"--he smiled--"Iwouldn't be able to go. Mr. Darrell has a buyer coming to look at hisyoung stock on Friday, and he writes me that if I want any of them--heknows I did want some--I can have the first pick if I am over atKillybeg on Thursday. So that means I'll be away from Wednesdaymorning--and I think this match will be as efficacious as anything elsein keeping you out of mischief during my absence!"

"I'm glad we'll have something!" Jim said, his grin belying his meekvoice. "Well, we'll have to see who can play. "

"You two boys, of course, " said his father. "And Cecil--do you play?"

"Not for worlds, thank you, " said Cecil, hastily. "It's not in myline. "

"Oh, " said his uncle. "Then you can be Norah's escort--if she wants togo, that is!"

"Want to go! Well, Daddy!" said Norah in expostulation--whereateverybody laughed. 

"Murty can slog, I believe, and of course, Boone is a cricketer, " thesquatter said. "They only want four, so if those two fellows arewilling--of which I'm not very doubtful!--that will be just right. Youmight go out and see if they're anywhere about, Jim. "

Jim and Wally dashed off, to return presently with the tidings thatMurty would play "wid all the pleasure in loife. " Boone was away atwork, but his acquiescence could be taken for granted. 

"Then I'll send a line to the doctor, " Mr. Linton said. "He and Mrs. Anderson want you all to go there for lunch on the day of the match--avery good arrangement, seeing that you'll have Norah with you. You'dbetter get away from here quite early; it's pretty certain to be hot, and the day will be a fairly long one, in any case. It will be farbetter to get the ride over before the sun is very formidable. And ifyou'll take my advice, boys, you'll make those fellows have somepractice before Thursday. You two should be in good form, but theyscarcely ever touch a bat. "

Jim and Wally approved of his advice, and each evening before the dayof the match saw the Billabong contingent of the Cunjee eleven hard atwork on a level stretch of ground close to the homestead; while Norahwas generally to be found making herself useful in the outfield. Hersex did not hinder the daughter of the house from being able to returnballs with force and directness, and when, as a reward for her aid, shewas given a few minutes with the bat, to carefully regulated bowlingfrom Wally, Norah's cup of joy was full. She was even heard to say thatschool might be bearable if they let you play cricket most of thetime!--which was a great admission for Norah, who had kept her wordrigidly about not mentioning the dreaded prospect before her. That shethought of it continually, Jim knew well and he and his chum were wont, by all means in their power, to paint school life for girls inattractive colours without appearing to be directly "preaching" toNorah; which kindly thought she saw through very well, and was silentlygrateful, though it was doubtful if her sentence lost any of itsterrors. 

It was always more or less before her. Her own circle had been toolimited to give Norah much experience of the outer world, and sheshrank instinctively from anything that lay beyond Billabong and itssurroundings. No one, meeting her in her home, would have dreamed thatshe might be shy; but the truth was that a very passion of shyness cameover her when she thought of confronting a number of girls, all up todate and smart, and at ease in their environment, and all, if Cecilwere to be believed, ready to look down upon the recruit from the Bush. 

For Cecil lost no opportunity to point out to Norah her drawbacks, andto hint at her inferiority to ordinary girls of her own age; "properlytrained girls" was his phrase. When he talked to her--which wasprudently when no one else was about--Norah felt a complete rustic, andwas well assured that the girls at Melbourne would very soon put her inher place, even if they did not openly resent the presence among themof a girl reared in the country, and in so unusual a fashion. She evenwondered miserably sometimes if Dad and Jim were rather ashamed of her, and did not like to say so; it was quite possible, since the city boyevidently held her in such low esteem. But then would come a summonsfrom her father, or Jim would appear and bear her off imperiously onsome expedition with him, and she would forget her fears--until the nexttime Cecil persevered in his plan of educating her to a knowledge ofher own deficiencies. It is not hard for a boy, on the verge ofmanhood, to instil ideas into an unsuspecting child; and Cecil'stuition gave poor Norah many a dark hour of which her father and theother boys never dreamed. It would have gone hard with Cecil had theydone so. 

Between cricket-practice, occasional rides and exploring expeditions, boating on the lagoon, and fishing in the river, to say nothing of muchcheerful intercourse, the days passed quickly--at least to most of theinhabitants of the homestead, and when Wednesday came Norah rode acrossthe run with her father to see him on his way to Killybeg. TheDarrells' station was some thirty-five miles away by the usual roads;but a short cut over the ranges reduced the journey by fifteen miles, although it was a rough trip, and an impossible one for vehicles. Mounted on Monarch, however, Mr. Linton thought nothing of it; andNorah laughed at his self-accusation of old age as she rode beside him, the lean, erect figure in the saddle giving easily to the black horse'sirresponsible bounds--for Monarch had been "spelled" for the trip, andwas full of spirits and suppressed energy. 

"Take care of him, Daddy, won't you?" she said, a little anxiously, asMonarch executed a more than ordinarily uproarious caper. "He's awfullyfresh. "

"He'll steady down presently, " said her father, smiling at the upturnedface. "There's some steep country ahead of him. "

"Yes, but he's such a mad-headed animal--and those paths on the sides ofthe gullies are very steep. "

"You sound like the nervous young woman in 'Excelsior, '" David Lintonsaid, with a laugh. "Cheer up, my girl--there's no need to worry aboutMonarch and me. He's only playful; hasn't an atom of vice, and I knowhim very well by now. I never put my leg over a better horse. "

"Oh, of course, " said Norah, cheered, but not altogether convinced. "Every one knows he's a beauty--but just look out that he doesn't try tobe too playful on the sidings, Daddy. It would be so easy to slipdown. "

"Not for anything with four good legs and a fair allowance of sense, "said her father. "Do you think you could make Bobs slip down?"

Norah laughed. 

"Oh, Bobs is like a mountain goat when it comes to sure-footedness, "she said. "You've said yourself, Daddy that it would hardly be possibleto THROW him down! But then, Bobs is Bobs, and he's seven years old, and ever so sensible--not like that big four-year-old baby. So promiseme you'll be careful, Daddy. "

"I will, little daughter. " They were at the boundary fence now, and itwas time for Norah to turn back. "Hurry home--I don't quite like youbeing so far afield by yourself. "

"Oh, Bobs will look after me. " Norah hugged her father so far asMonarch would permit--Mr. Linton had got off to wrestle with a stiffpadlock on the seldom-used gate, and the black horse was pulling away, impatient of the delay. 

"I expect he will, " said the father. "That pony is almost as great acomfort to me as he is to you, I believe! Make haste home, all thesame. " He stood still a moment to watch the little white-coated figureand the handsome pony swinging across the plain at Bobs' long canter;his face tender as few people ever saw it. Then he mounted the eagerMonarch, and rode off into the rough country that led to the ranges. 

It was comparatively early, but already very hot. Norah was not sorrywhen she left the long stretch they called the "Far Plain" behind her, and came into the welcome shade of a belt of timber. She walked Bobsthrough it slowly. Then came the clear stretch to the homestead, andthey cantered steadily across it. 

Near the stockyard a cloud of dust hovered, through which might be seendimly the forms of Jim, Wally and O'Toole--all engaged in the engrossingpursuit of inducing three poddy calves to enter the yard. They had butone dog, which, being young and "whip shy, " had vanished into thedistant landscape at the sound of Murty's stockwhip, leaving them buttheir own energies to persuade the calves; and when a poddy calfbecomes obstinate there are few animals less easy to persuade. Each waspossessed of a very respectable turn of speed and a rooteddetermination to remain in the paddock. When, as frequently happened, they made separate rushes away in the direction of freedom it was allbut impossible for those on foot to head them off and keep them in thecorner by the yards. They raced hither and thither like mad things, cutting wild capers as they fled; backed and twisted and dodged, andoccasionally bellowed as they bolted, much as a naughty child mightbellow. To an onlooker there was something distinctly funny in thespectacle. 

Murty and the boys, however, might be excused for failing to see thefiner points of the joke. They were hot beyond expression; they werealso extremely dirty, and were verging on becoming extremely cross. Toand fro they darted wildly, striving to head off the cheerful culprits:lifted up their voices in fruitless shouting, and wasted much necessarybreath in uttering wild threats of what might be expected to happenwhen--if ever--they succeeded in yarding the enemy. Not one had a hat;they had long ago been used as missiles in checking a rush, and now layin the dust, trampled under the racing feet of the poddies. Moreover, it was distressingly evident that they were becoming tired, whilst thecalves remained fresh and in most excellent spirits. The chances, asNorah arrived, were distinctly in favour of the calves. 

From a comfortable seat on a rail Cecil watch the battle, for onceceasing to look bored. In his opinion it was funnier than a circus. Once or twice he shouted words of encouragement to the combatants, andfrequently he laughed outright. As an entertainment this quite outshoneanything that had been offered him on Billabong--and Cecil was not theman to withhold applause where he thought it due. Finally his attitudeattracted the notice of the perspiring Mr. O'Toole. 

"Yerra, come down out o' that an' len' a hand!" he shouted, panting. "It is laughin' ye'd be, wid these loonattic images gittin' away onus--!" Further eloquence on Murty's part was checked by a determinedrush on the part of a red and white calf, which would certainly haveended in freedom but for a well-aimed clod, which, hurled by theIrishman, took the poddy squarely between the eyes and induced him topull up and meditate. Unfortunately Murty tripped in the act ofdelivery, and went headlong, picking himself up just in time to stop asecond rush by the calf, which, on seeing his enemy on the ground, promptly ceased to meditate. Cecil rocked with laughter. 

"Oh, get off that fence and try and block these brutes, Cecil!" sangout Jim, angrily. "Another hand would make all the difference, if you'dexert yourself!"

Cecil's laughter came to a sudden stop. He looked indignantly at hisgrey suit, and with pain at his patent leather shoes; then, apparentlycoming to the conclusion that there was no help for it, descendedgingerly, and came into the line of defenders. A sturdy littleShorthorn singled him out for attention, and charged in his direction. 

"Block him! Block him, I say!"

Jim's voice rang out. Cecil uttered a feeble yelp as the calf cameracing past, waved his arms, and executed a few mild steps towardshim--attentions which but served to accelerate the Shorthorn's flight. He went by the city lad like a meteor, rendering useless a wild run byWally, who was just too late to head him. Murty O'Toole uttered a shoutof wrath. 

"Howly Ann! He's lost him! The blitherin'--yerra, glory be, there's MissNorah!"

The change from indignation to relief was comical. Norah and Bobs camelike a bolt from the blue upon the vision of the astonished Shorthorn, which made one last gallant effort for freedom, dodging and twisting, while gallant effort for freedom, dodging and twisting, while Bobs madeevery movement, propping and swinging to cut him off in a manner thatwould have disturbed any rider not used to the intricate ways of astock horse. Finally the calf gave it up abruptly, and raced backtowards the yard, the pony at his heels. He bolted in at the open gate, promptly followed by his companions, and Murty cut off their exit witha grunt of relief. 

"Wisha, it's hot!" he said, mopping his brow. "Sure, Miss Norah, y' kemin the nick av time--'twas run clane off our legs, we was. "

"They CAN run, can't they?" said Norah, who was laughing. "Did you hurtyourself, Murty?"

"Only me timper, " said the Irishman, grinning. "But 'twas enough tomake a man angry to see that little omadhaun dancin' an' flapping hisarrums f'r all the world loike a monkey on a stick--an' pardon to ye, Miss Norah, but I do be forgettin' he's y'r cousin. "

"Oh, he's not used to stock; you mustn't be hard on him, Murty, " Norahlaughed. "Are you very hot, you poor boys?"--as Wally and Jim came up, panting. Cecil had withdrawn towards the house, in offended dignity. 

"Hot!" said Wally, casting himself on the ground--

 "'Far better in the sod to lie, With pasturing pig above, Than broil beneath a copper sky, In sight of all I love!'

That's me!"

"Don't know how you've energy to spout Dr. Watts at that rate, " saidJim, following his example. 

"I don't think it is Dr. Watts; I fancy it's Kendall, " said Wally, uncertainly. "Not that it matters, anyhow; I'm not likely to meeteither of them! Did you ever see anything like the way those littlebeggars ran?"

"Hope I never will again--with the thermometer at this height, " Jimanswered. "Norah, no words can say how glad I was to see you return, mydear!"

"I can imagine how much of your gladness concerned me, and how much wasdue to that Shorthorn calf!" said Norah, laughing. 

"Well, he'd have been fleeing yet into the offing if it hadn't been foryou, " said Wally. "Will any one take my hand and lead me for a drink?"

"We'll go up to the house--it's cool there, " Jim said. "I want a lemonsquash three feet long. There'll be one for you, Murty, if you comeup. "

"I will that same, " said Mr. O'Toole, promptly. "There's no vegetableloike the limon on a day loike this!" So they let Bobs go, and alltrooped inside, where Cecil was found, well brushed, and wearing amartyred expression--which, however, was not proof against refreshments. He even went so far as to express mild regret for his slowness torender assistance, remarking that it was against his doctor's advicefor him to run; which remarks were received with fitting demeanour byhis hearers, though, as Wally remarked later, it was difficult to seehow any one who knew Cecil at all could ever have contemplated thepossibility of his running!

"Well, I must go back and help Murty brand those youngsters, " Jim said, at length, bringing his long form in stages off the sofa. "Coming, Wal. ? And, Norah, just you take things quietly. It's uncommon hot, andyou'll have a long day to-morrow. "

Norah assented with surprising meekness, and the day passed calmly, enlivened by an enthusiastic cricket practice in the evening; afterwhich she was called into requisition at the piano, and played to anaudience stretched on basket chairs and lounges on the verandahoutside. Finally the performer protested, coming out through one of thelong windows for a breath of cooler air. 

"Well, then, it's bed, " said Jim, yawning prodigiously. "Norah, the menare going to drive in, with our playing togs, to-morrow; would yourather go in the buggy?"

"I'd rather drive, thanks, Jim. "

"Thought so. Then hurry off to bed, for we're going to make an earlystart. " Jim paused, looking up at the star-filled sky. "And I give youall warning, it's going to be a caution for heat!"

CHAPTER XIV

CUNJEE v. MULGOA

 I remember What it was to be young, and glad, and strong, By a creek that rippled the whole day long. M. FORREST. 

There was no doubt whatever that the heat was, as Jim had prophesied, "a caution. " Pretty little Mrs. Anderson, walking down to the cricketground at Cunjee, between Jim and Cecil, inwardly wondered what hadmade her come out of her cool, shaded house to encounter so scorching asun--with nothing ahead but a bush cricket match. However, Cunjee was nomore lively than other townships of its class, and even a match wassomething. Besides, her husband was playing, and the Billabongcontingent, who did not seem to mind the heat at all, had arrived fullof most infectious high spirits, filling her house with a cheerfulatmosphere of youth and jollity. Norah had at once succumbed to thecharms of the baby, and as the baby seemed similarly impressed withNorah, it had been hard to remove him from her arms even for purposesof nourishment for either. She had quite seriously proposed to take himto the match, and had been a little grieved when his mother hastilyvetoed the proposition. As mother of three babies, Mrs. Anderson knewprecisely their worth at an entertainment--particularly on a hot day. 

Even Cecil was more than usually inclined to be--if not happy, at leastless bored; although he had begun the day badly, and considered himselfscarcely on speaking terms with Jim. This attitude was somewhatdifficult to sustain, because Jim himself ignored it cheerfully, andaddressed to his cousin whatever remarks came into his head--which Cecilprivately considered a demeanour showing the worst of taste. 

Bobs had been the "unhappy cause of all this discord. " The bay pony wasalways an object of envy to Cecil, and in his heart he was determinedto ride him before leaving Billabong. Particularly he coveted him forthe ride into Cunjee. It was bad enough, he considered, to be condemnedto Brown Betty in the paddocks, but she was certainly not stylishenough to please him when it came to a township expedition. So he hadsauntered out when the horses were being saddled, and delicately hintedto Jim that he might ride Bobs. 

Jim, wrestling with Garryowen's girth, had found it the easiest way outof the difficulty to avoid hearing the hint--which he considered "likeCecil's cheek, " and as nothing short of Norah's own command would haveinduced him to accede to it, silence seemed the better plan. Cecil hadwaited a moment until his head came up from under the saddle flap, andrepeated his remark. 

"Afraid not, " said Jim, driven to bay, and speaking shortly to coverhis annoyance. "Norah's going to ride him herself. " He led Garryowenoff to tie him under the shade of the pepper trees, and did not returnto saddle Bobs until Cecil had retreated to the house, looking veryblack. 

This little incident--which Jim had not thought is necessary to reportto Norah--had slightly marred the harmony of the early morning. ButJim's unfailing good humour make it hard to keep up a grievance, and ifBetty were not exactly stylish, her paces were good enough to make herrider enjoy the trip into Cunjee, especially as Wally and Norah were inthe best of spirits and kept things going with a will. Then had comelunch at the Andersons', an occasion which called all Cecil's reservepowers into play. Mrs. Anderson was pretty and smart, and he assumedhis best society manner in talking to her, monopolized most of theconversation and flattered himself on making a distinct impression onhis country hostess. Possibly he would have been pained had he heardMrs. Anderson's remark to her husband while putting on her hat afterlunch. 

"Did you ever see such a contrast, Jack?" she asked--"that conceitedboy, and those nice Grammar School youngsters--they're so jolly andunaffected!" To which the doctor had responded that if he had his wayhe'd boil Cecil, and it was time she had that veil fixed--and had ledher forth, protesting that "half the pins weren't in!"

Cecil, however, knew nothing of these comments, and was very wellsatisfied with himself as they walked slowly along the lane leading tothe cricket ground. Jim, on the other side of Mrs. Anderson, tall andhandsome in his flannels, with his white hat pulled over his eyes, discoursed cheerfully of school matches, and promised them somethingworth seeing if young Wally got going with the bat--conversation whichdid not interest Cecil, who turned it as speedily as might be tomatters more to his taste, whereat Jim grew silent, listening with asmile hovering on his well-cut mouth to society doing in the city, toldwith a view to impressing his hearers with a sense of the narrator'sown important share therein. Once Mrs. Anderson met Jim's eye in abrief glance, and reflected the smile momentarily. Behind them, Norah, Wally, and the little doctor kept up a flow of chatter which Wallydescribed as "quite idiotic and awfully comfortable!" The party arrivedat the cricket ground on very good terms with itself. 

The ground boasted no pavilion save a shed used for the preparation ofafternoon tea--a building of which the extreme heat made it almostpossible to boil the kettle without lighting a fire! Naturally, no oneused it for purposes of watching the play, but there was a row ofwattle trees along one side of the ground, and seats placed in theirshade made an excellent natural grand stand. Here the non-playersbetook themselves, while the doctor and the two boys went off to thespot where already most of the other players were gathered--a lean-tounder a huge gum-tree, used as a dressing-room by most of thecombatants, a number of whom arrived on horseback from long distances. The Billabong boys had changed at the hotel, after putting up theirhorses, and before repairing to the Andersons', so that they had nodressing to do--which was more than fortunate for them, since thelean-to was so thick with men, boys, valises, discarded garments, leggings and boots, that it resembled a hive in a strong state ofdisorganization. 

Finally, the men were ready; a somewhat motley crowd--not more thanseven or eight in flannels, while the remainder were in ordinary dress, with occasionally riding breeches and leggings to be seen, and not afew football jerseys. The Mulgoa men, on being mustered, were found tobe a man short, while Cunjee had one to the good. So Murty O'Toole, tohis intense disgust, was solemnly handed over to Mulgoa. Then Dr. Anderson, who captained Cunjee, won the toss, and Murty took the fieldalong with his new allies, amid heartless jeers from Mr. Boone, smokingcomfortably under a tree, who desired to know should he fetch Mr. O'Toole an umbrella?

The story in detail of a cricket match is generally of particularinterest to those who have been there; and as, unfortunately, thenumber of spectators of the famous battle between Cunjee and Mulgoa waslimited, little would be served by an exhaustive description of eachover bowled on that day of relentless heat. Cunjee shaped badly fromthe start. Their two most noted batsmen, a young blacksmith and thepost-master, fell victims, without getting into double figures, to thecrafty bowling of the Mulgoa captain, Dan Billings--who drove a coach inhis spare moments, and had as nice an understanding of how to make aball break on a fast wicket as of flicking the off leader on the earwith the cracker of his four-in-hand whip. Dr. Anderson scored a coupleof fours, and then went out "leg before. " He remarked, returning to the"pavilion" sorrowfully, that when one was as round and fat as he, itwas difficult to keep out of the way of three little sticks! Then DaveBoone and Wally made a stand that roused the perspiring spectators tosomething like enthusiasm, for Mr. Boone was a mighty "slogger, " andWally had a neat and graceful style that sent the Cunjee supportersinto the seventh heaven. Between them the score mounted rapidly, andthe men of Mulgoa breathed a sigh of relief when at length Dave skied aball from Billings, which descended into the ample hands of MurtyO'Toole, who was quite undecided whether to treat his catch as atriumph or a calamity. There was no doubt, however, on the part of hiscolleagues for the day, who thumped him wildly on the back and yelledagain with joy. Mr. Boone retired with a score of forty-five and a widegrin. 

Then Jim joined Wally, and kept his end up while his chum put on theruns. Nothing came amiss to Wally that day--slow balls, fast balls, "yorkers, " "googlies"--the science of Mulgoa went to earth before thethin brown schoolboy with the merry face. Jim, however, was never atease, though he managed to remain in a good while; and eventuallyDickenson, a wiry little Mulgoa man, found his middle stump with aswift ball--to the intense dismay of Norah, to whom it seemed that thesky had fallen. Cecil smiled serenely. 

"I had an idea Jim fancied himself as a bat!" said he. 

"Jim never fancies himself at anything!" said Jim's sister, indignantly. "Anyway, he's a bowler far more than a bat. "

"Ah, it's possibly not his 'day out. ' What a pity!" Cecil murmured. 

"Well, we can't always be on our best form, I suppose, " said Mrs. Anderson, pacifically. "And, at any rate, Norah, your friend is doingsplendidly. Wasn't that a lovely stroke?"

Alas! it soon was apparent that Cunjee was not going to support itsally. One after another the wickets went down, and the batsmen returnedfrom the field "with mournful steps and slow. " Wally, seeing hischances diminishing, took liberties with the bowling, and hit wildly, with amazing luck in having catches missed. At last, however, hesnicked a ball into cover-point's hands, and retired, amid greatapplause, having made forty-three. The remaining Cunjee wickets went aschaff before the wind, and the innings closed for 119. 

Then there was a rush for the refreshment shed, and monumentalquantities of tea were consumed by the teams and their supporters, administered by the admiring maidens of Cunjee. Wally and Jim, prone onthe grass in the shade, were cheerful, but by no means enthusiasticregarding their chances. Norah had half expected to find Jim cast downover his batting failure, and was much relieved that he exhibited allhis usual serenity. Jim's training had been against showing feelingover games. 

"Absolutely fiery out there, " said he, accepting a cup gratefully. "Thanks, awfully, Mrs. Anderson; you people are no end good. Didn't wemake a beautiful exhibition of ourselves?--all except Dave and this kid, that is. "

"Kid yourself, " said Wally, who was sucking a lemon slowly andluxuriously. "No tea, thanks, Norah. I'm boiling already, and if I tooktea I don't know what might happen, but certainly heat apoplexy wouldbe part of it. Have half my lemon?"

"I don't think so, thanks, " said Norah, unmoved by this magnificentoffer. "You seem to be getting used to that one, and I'd hate todeprive you of it. Do you boys think we've any chance?"

"It's highly doubtful, " Jim answered. "The general opinion is thatMulgoa's good for 150 at the very least--they've got a few rathersuperior men, I believe, and of course that Billings chap is a terror. And the wicket, such as it is, is all in favour for the bat--whichdoesn't say much for us And one of our men has gone down with the heatand can't field--fellow from the hotel with red hair, who madefive--remember him, Wal. ? He's out of training, like most hotel chaps, and as soft as possible, So we're playing a man short. "

"I wish they'd give you Murty back!" said Norah, with feminineignorance. 

"Much hope!" returned her brother. "Anyway, Murty's not over good inthe field; he's too much in the saddle to be a quick man on his feet. Iwouldn't mind you as substitute, Nor. "--which remark, though futile, pleased Norah exceedingly. 

She was rather more hopeful when the Cunjee team at length took thefield, with Boone and the blacksmith bowling against Billings andanother noted Mulgoa warrior. But her hopes were rapidly put to flight, and the spirits of the Cunjee "barrackers" went down to zero as itbecame distressingly apparent that Mr. Billings and his partner werethere to stay. Alike they treated the bowling with indifference, hitting the Billabong stockman with especial success--which soondemoralized Dave, who appealed to be taken off, and devoted hisenergies to short slip fielding. Here he had his revenge presently, forthe second Mulgoa man hit a ball almost into his hands, and Dave clungto it as a drowning man to a straw--one wicket for thirty-five. 

Then the score mounted with alarming steadiness, and the wickets fellall too slowly for the home team. Dan Billings appeared as comfortableat the wickets as though on the box of his couch, and smote the bowlingall round the ground with impartiality. The heat became more and moreoppressive, and several of the Cunjee men were tiring, including plumplittle Dr. Anderson, who stuck to his work as wicket-keeper pluckily--tothe unconcealed anxiety of his wife. His reward came when a hot returnfrom the field by Wally gave him a chance of stumping one of the Mulgoacracks. But the enthusiasm was only momentary; the game was considered, even by the most sanguine small boy of Cunjee, to be "all over barshouting. "

Jim had been bowling for some time from one end with fair results. Thebatsmen certainly took fewer liberties with him, and he managed toaccount for three of them for a comparatively low average. He hadallowed himself to become anxious, which is a bad thing for a bowlerwhen the score is creeping up and the batsmen are well set. Wallywatched his chum with some anxiety--there was none of the fire in hisbowling that had so often brought down the ground in a School match. 

"Wish he's wake up, " said Wally to himself. "I'd like a chance to talkto him. "

The chance came when the field crossed over, disposed anew to harry aleft-handed batsman. Jim came over with his long, swinging walk, hishead a little bent. He started a little at his friend's voice. 

"You'll snore soon!" said Wally, incisively. "What on earth's thematter with you? Play up, School!"

Jim stopped short a moment--and burst out laughing, Wally's indignantface glanced back over his shoulder as he ran off. There was a newspring in the bowler's walk as he went to his crease, and the smilestill lingered. 

The left-handed man faced him confidently--not many local bowlers couldtrouble him much, and being a large and well-whiskered gentleman, thetall schoolboy opposite to him sent no thrill of fear through his soul. But Jim had learned a thing or two at school about left-handed bats. Hetook a short run. 

On returning to the pavilion the whiskered one admitted that he knewreally nothing about the ball. It seemed to come from nowhere, and curlabout his bat as he lifted it to strike. How the bails came off was amystery to him, though it was unfortunately beyond question that theyhad not remained on. The left-hander removed his pads, ruminating. 

Cunjee, meanwhile, had cheered frantically, and Wally sent a Schoolyell ringing down the field. Jim's eye lit up anew as he heard it. 

"I do believe I've been asleep, " he muttered. 

The new man was waiting for him, and he treated his first two ballswith respect. Then he grew bolder; hit him for a single, and snickedhim to the fence for four. There was a perceptible droop in the Cunjeespirits at the boundary hit. Then Jim bowled the last ball of the over, and there was a composite yell from Cunjee as the Mulgoa man pushed theball gently into the air just over Dr. Anderson's head. The littledoctor was pitifully hot, but he did not fail. The Mulgoa batsmanreturned to his friends. 

Dan Billings was a little worried. Much, he felt, depended on him, andhe had never been more comfortably set; but his men--would they be asreliable? He decided to hit out, and Mulgoa roared as the hundred wentup for a beautiful boundary hit. Six wickets were down, and Mulgoa was107 at the end of the over. It seemed safe enough. 

Jim took the ball again, his fingers pressing the red surface almostlovingly. He had quite waked up; his head was buzzing with "theories, "and his old power seemed to have come back to his fingers. The firstball came with a beautiful leg-break, and the Mulgoan bat swiped at itwildly, and vainly. Seven for 107. 

Cunjee was getting excited as the eighth man came in--a wiry and longyouth with a stolid face. He contented himself with blocking Jim'sbowling, snatching a single presently so that Billings would have theresponsibility--to which that gentleman promptly responded by smitingJim for three. That brought the stolid youth back to power--an honour hedid not wish. He hit the next ball softly back to the bowler. Eight for111; and Cunjee howling steadily, with all its youth, and some of itsbeauty, battering with sticks on tins. A dog ran across the ground, andwas greeted with a yell that made it scurry away in terror, its tailconcealed between its legs. Just then Cunjee had no time for dogs. 

But it was Mr. Billings' turn, and Mr. Billings was busy. He made gooduse of the over--the score mounted, and the Cunjee hopes swung lower. Itwas still eight--for 115--when a single brought his companion to facelittle Harry Blake, the other Cunjee bowler, who was plainly feelingthe weight of his position. He sent the ball down nervously--it slippedas it left his hand, and the Mulgoan stepped out to meet it, whileHarry gasped with horror. Up, up, it soared--a boundary surely! Thenthere was a roar as Wally Meadows gathered himself together, raced, andsprang for the red disc, spinning over his head just at the fence. Itseemed to hover above him--then his hands closed, and, unable to stophimself, Wally somersaulted, rolling over and over in the long grass ofthe outfield. He sat up, his brown face lit by a wide smile, the ballstill clutched, held above his head. Nine for 115!

The tension was on bowlers and batsmen alike now--all save Dan Billings, whose calmness was unimpaired. He greeted the tenth man cheerfully--andthe tenth man was Murty O'Toole, very hot and nervous, and certainlythe most miserable man on the ground as he faced "Masther Jim's"bowling, and knew that the alien hopes of Mulgoa depended on him. Outin the open a Mulgoa man shrugged his shoulders, remarking, "He won'ttry!" and was promptly attacked furiously by three small boys ofCunjee, who pelted him with clods and abuse from a safe distance. Murtylooked at Jim with a little half-apologetic gesture, and Jim grinned. 

"Play up, Murty, old chap!" he said. 

It was not in vain that he had schooled the stockman in the paddock atBillabong. He sent down a treacherous ball, and Murty met it and playedit boldly for two, amid Mulgoan shrieks. Two to tie and three towin--no, one fewer now, for the Irishman had turned a swift ball to leg, and only quick fielding had prevented a boundary. A hundred andseventeen! Murty heaved a sigh of relief as he leaned on his bat at thebowler's end and glanced across at Jim. 

"Praises be, 'twill be Billings to hit it, an' not O'Toole!" hemuttered. "I have put me fut in it sufficient f'r wance!"

The ball left Jim's hand with a whizz, and Billings stepped out to meetit. Just what happened no one saw clearly for a moment, it all came topass so quickly. Then an Irish yell from Murty O'Toole woke the echoes, even as the bowler's hand flashed up above his head--and the bigstockman flung up his bat in an ecstasy of delight. Billings bit off asharp word and left his crease; and Cunjee woke to the fact that theMulgoan captain was caught and bowled. The match was theirs--by one run!

When Cunjee woke it became very thoroughly awake. They rushed theground, cheering, shouting and hurling hats and caps into the air, irrespective of their owners' wishes. There was a demonstration tocarry Jim in, which that hero promptly quenched by taking to his heelsand leaving his too affectionate friends far in the rear. Behind himCunjee and Mulgoa seethed together, and the air was rent with cheers. Free fights were in active progress in at least five places on theground. It was clearly Cunjee's day out. 

Jim met Wally with a grin that was distinctly sheepish. 

"Knew you could!" said the Mentor, patting him happily on the back. "Good old School! But what an ass you were, Jimmy!"

"I was, " said Jim, meekly. 

CHAPTER XV

THE RIDE HOME

 In the gathering of night-gloom o'erhead in The still, silent change. GORDON. 

"Well, old girl?"

Norah laughed up at the big fellow delightedly. 

"Oh, wasn't it lovely, Jimmy?" she said. "I was so excited--and you weregrand! And wasn't Wally's catch a beauty? It's been a lovely match, hasn't it, Jim?"

"H'm--in spots, " said Jim, a little doubtfully, but laughing back ather. "Rather like the fellow who said his egg was 'excellent--in parts, 'don't you think? Anyhow, we won, and that's the main thing--and I neverDID see a catch to beat that of Wal's. "

"We're all immensely proud of you, Jim, " Mrs. Anderson said. "Anddidn't my old man do well?"

"He did, indeed, " Jim agreed heartily. "But I'm not a bit proud ofmyself--I think I was asleep most of the time, till old Wal. , here, wokeme up with a few well-chosen words. However, it's over now--and Norah, Iwant you to get along home. "

"Aren't you coming?" Norah asked, a little blankly. 

"We'll have to catch you up. I don't quite like the look of theweather; we're in for a storm, that's certain, and you may possiblyescape it if you get away now. I can't start just yet; the Mulgoafellows are insisting on 'shouting' for all hands, and we can't verywell refuse; besides"--he dropped his voice--"you know what Boone is--Imust see that he and Murty leave Cunjee. Cecil will look after you, won't you, Cecil?"

That gentleman assented without any pleasure. He did not feel impressedwith the prospect of acting as escort to a small girl when he mighthave remained in Cunjee. Norah was quick to notice his manner. 

"I needn't bother Cecil, Jim, " she said, "I can quite easily ride on bymyself. "

"Indeed you won't, " her brother responded. "Why, it'll be dark beforelong--let alone the state of the weather. You don't mind, Cecil, doyou?"

Thus directly questioned, Cecil could do nothing but express his entirewillingness. 

"That's all right, then, " Jim said. "Hurry on down to the hotel and getthe saddles on, there's a good chap. Goodness knows whether you'll findany one there, but I fancy that pretty well the whole township is up atthe match. You'll only escape that storm if you're lucky--don't lose aminute. " He made his farewells to Mrs. Anderson, and turned to Norahagain. "Better look after your own girth, " he told her--"run after Ceciland lend him a hand if he wants it. "

Cecil had already started; his slim, correctly attired figure washastening along the dusty lane. He hated rain, and the hint of thecoming storm had made him hurry when no other consideration would havedone so. There was no one visible about the hotel yard, as he entered, and he called in vain; then, seeing no help for it, he entered thestables, where the Billabong horses occupied the stalls at one end. Bobs whinnied sharply as the door opened, and Cecil looked at theinquiring head; and then, sourly, towards Brown Betty, standingpeacefully, half asleep, in her stall. 

"Wonder if she'd mind?" Cecil muttered, pondering. "Let her, anyhow!"With which cryptic remarks he moved towards the saddles. 

Norah arrived on the scene a few minutes later, coming straight to thestables. For a moment she could not see Cecil, then, peering intoBetty's stall, she made him out, busily girthing up. Bobs was alreadysaddled, and Norah went up to him. 

"Why, you have been quick, Cecil, " she said, cheerfully. "I thought Iwas going to help you, but there doesn't seem anything for me to do. Thanks very much for saddling Bobs. " She led the pony out, and thenstopped. "Oh, what a pity, " she said. "You've got the wrong saddles on, Cecil. "

Cecil came out, leading the brown mare, and a little flushed. 

"I did it on--ah--purpose, " he said. "You don't mind, I suppose if I rideBobs home?"

Norah looked at him a moment, and then flushed in her turn. To let hercousin ride Bobs seventeen miles was unthinkable. She had theprofoundest regard for her pony's back; and she knew that even BrownBetty's seasoned hide was giving way under the unskilled horsemanshipof the city boy. It was very doubtful, moreover, that it would be safeto mount him on Bobs, who was already excited with the coming storm andthe prospect of home. She knew every turn, and thought of thehigh-spirited pony--he went quietly for her, but with a new-chum itmight be a different matter. 

Moreover, Norah was distinctly annoyed. She was a sweet-temperedmaiden, but she did not like being treated lightly; and in assumingthat he might coolly appropriate her special property, it seemed to herthat Cecil was treating her very lightly indeed. She had a moment'sswift wish that Jim were there to take her part. It was not quite easyto oppose any one nearly grown up like Cecil--who in addition was aguest, and had a special claim on courtesy. She flushed deeply as sheanswered him in a low voice. 

"I can't let you ride Bobs, I'm afraid, Cecil. "

"Oh, can't you?" said Cecil, staring. "Why not?"

"Well, no one rides him but me, " said Norah unhappily. "And he's aqueer pony, Cecil. I'm not a bit sure that he'd go nicely with you. Yousee, I understand him. "

"You evidently think no one can ride but yourself, " Cecil saiddisagreeably. "I really think I can manage the famous Bobs. "

"If you knew him it might be all right, " Norah answered. "But I'dreally rather not, Cecil. He's eager and impatient, and quiteunaccustomed to strangers. Dad would be awfully annoyed if you had anytrouble with him. "

"I don't fancy Uncle David would be given any need for annoyance, "Cecil replied. "I'm a bit sick of this old mare, and I don't think itwould hurt you to lend me Bobs. It's uncommonly selfish of you to wantto keep him always. "

Norah's flush deepened. 

"I'm awfully sorry you think that, " she said. "And I'll speak to Dadabout your riding him, if you like--another time. "

"Another time? Then what's the matter with my riding him now? Isuppose, " said Cecil with a sneer, "you want to show off in Cunjee. "

Norah stared at him blankly for a moment. Rudeness had been always sofar from her that she did not for a moment comprehend that this boy wasbeing deliberately rude. Then she walked round Bobs without replying, and unbuckled the girth. 

"Please let me have my saddle, " she said. Her voice was quite final. 

Cecil was pale with anger. He flung round without a word, tugging atthe buckle until Betty, who was patient but girth-galled, pulled awayin protest. As it yielded Norah laid his saddle on the mare's withers, and slipped her own away. Their eyes met for a moment as she did so--thechild's steady and a little scornful, the young man's shifty. ThenNorah lifted her saddle across to Bobs, and girthed him up in silence. 

The pony was restless and excited, and objected to the second saddlingout in the space of the yard, when he was keen to get away. It seemedunreasonable to Bobs, and he ran round and generally behaved in afrivolous manner, while Norah struggled with the girth. When it wasdone, she took her head, somewhat dishevelled, from under the saddleflap. She laughed a little. 

Cecil, every line of his back showing offended dignity, was riding outof the yard. As he came to the gate he dug his heel into Betty, whobroke into a canter at once. Norah's escort disappeared round a turn inthe street without looking back. 

"Well, if he isn't a donkey!" was her comment. "He's awfullyunpleasant--I wish he wouldn't make things so uncomfortable. " Shemounted Bobs, and subdued that excitable steed's impatience while shesettled her habit. "Jim will be so angry if he finds out. I must getaway before he comes. "

She rode into the street. Some distance away a crowd was moving slowlyin her direction. Cheers and snatches of triumphant choruses werewafted to her. In the midst she could see some figures in whiteflannels. Norah rounded the corner of the street, seeing ahead of her afast-receding speck--Brown Betty and her rider. It was evident that shewas not to have the benefit of Cecil's presence on the ride home; andNorah could not help laughing again, although she was annoyed at thewhole occurrence. For all his airs, he was such a baby, this cousin ofhers. 

"I'll tell Dad all about it, " she reflected. "The he can say whether hethinks Cecil can ride Bobs. Only I won't tell him he cleared out andleft me, 'cause there would be a row straight away. " Thus pondering inthe Australian manner, she took the road home. 

Jim's storm was coming up slowly, and though the sun had not yet set, already it was growing dusk; and still it was very hot. She let Bobscanter slowly, not wishing to appear to be hurrying after Cecil. Norahnever bore malice, but she had her pride! Often she glanced back overher shoulder, hoping to see the boys. She knew they would not let thegrass grow under their horses' hoofs, once they were able to take theroad home. But the track lay bare behind her, and ahead Cecil had quitedisappeared. By the time she was five miles out of Cunjee she seemedthe only person in the whole landscape, and the only sound that met herear was the steady beat of the cantering hoofs, mingled with the creakof the saddle leather. 

The metalled road ended, and she struck into the bush track. It wasvery lonely now; trees overhung the path, and the eerie light of thecoming storm threw strange shadows, at which Bobs shied constantly. Once or twice there was a distant roll of thunder. There was just lightenough left to see the way. The road wound in and out among the trees. By day it was Norah's favourite part of the journey; but now she couldnot help wishing that it were possible to look further ahead, or towatch the road over which she had passed, to catch the first glimpse ofJim and Wally. There was a pleasant security in feeling that they werecoming. Norah was not a nervous girl; but she had rarely been allowedto ride any but short distances alone. If Dad and Jim were notavailable, it was an understood thing that Billy must act as herescort. Certainly she had never been in the dark alone, and so far fromhome. She was not afraid--she would have laughed at the very notion. Still, it was a little queer. She knew she would be glad when she wasout of the timber. 

There came a bend in the track, and Bobs swung round it sharply. Then adark figure loomed up suddenly in the gloom, and the pony shiedviolently, and propped. Norah struck her heel into him, her heartgiving a great bound. He struggled and plunged. A hand was on hisbridle, and a rough voice threatened him savagely. In the gloom Norahcould just make out a brutal-looking man, young, but with something inhis face that made her shudder. Her heart stood still for a moment, after that first wild leap. Then she realized that he was asking herfor money, and she commanded her voice to answer. 

"I haven't any. "

It was true. When she rode with her father or brother it never occurredto Norah to carry money, and she wore nothing of value at all to temptany thief. Her hunting-crop was silver mounted; she remembered itsuddenly, glad that it was dark and that the man would not be likely tonotice the gift that had been Jim's. 

"I don't believe y', " he said. 

"Well, you can, then, " Norah answered. She was beginning to recoverherself, a little ashamed of that first moment of unreasoning terror. If she had no money he would surely let her go. She scarcely knew themeaning of fear--how should she, in the free, simple life that hadalways been guarded, yet had left her only a little child in mind? "Ihaven't so much as a penny, " she went on. "Let go my bridle. "

"What are y' doin' here alone?" The slow voice was crafty; something init brought back that stupid first fear. She pulled herself together. 

"My people are coming--you'd better let go. If my brother gets hold ofyou--"

"Oh, your brother's comin', is he?"

"Yes; let go my bridle. "

"Shut up about your bridle!" said the man, and Norah shrank back as ifshe had been stung. He began to lead Bobs off the track. 

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily. She kicked Bobs again, and thepony tried to rear, caught between the sudden blow and that compellinghand on his rein. The man pulled him down savagely, jerking at his bitand flinging threats at him and at Norah. 

"Y' might as well stop playin' the fool, " he told her. "I want thatpony, an' I'm goin' to have it. "

TO HAVE BOBS! She tried to speak, but the words died before she couldutter them. Bobs! In her bewildered terror she scarcely realized for amoment what he meant; then she raised her whip and cut with all herstrength at the hand that held the rein. He gave a sharp yell of painas the stinging whalebone caught him, but he did not relinquish hisgrasp, and Norah struck at him again and again, half blindly in thedarkness, but always with the strength of desperation. It could notlast long--the struggle was too pitifully unequal. It was only a minutebefore he had wrested the whip from her and held her wrists in onevice-like hand. His voice was thick with rage. 

"I'll teach y', " he said, "y' little spitfire! Get off that pony. "

He began to drag her off. She clung to the saddle wildly, knowing howhopeless it was, but somehow feeling that she must not leave that onepoor haven of safety. Then she felt herself going, and in thatsickening moment screamed for help--a child's piteous cry:

"Jim! Jim! Jim!"

There was no Jim to aid her--she knew it, even as she cried. The roughgrasp tightened; she could feel his breath as he dragged her from thesaddle. 

Then from the darkness came a tall, stealthy shadow, and suddenly herwrists were free, as her assailant staggered back in the grip of thenewcomer. She made a violent effort and found herself back in thesaddle; and Bobs was plunging wildly, his bridle free. The necessity ofsteadying him in the timber helped her to calm herself. Before her themen were swaying backwards and forwards, blocking the way to the track;her enemy's savage voice mingling with a lower one that was somehowfamiliar, though she could not tell what he said. Then she saw that thestruggle was ending--the tall man had the other pinned against a tree, and turned to her. His dark face was close, and she cried out to him, knowing him for a friend. 

"Oh, Lal Chunder, it's you!"

"Him beat, " said Lal Chunder, breathlessly. "L'il meesis orright?"

"I'm all right, " she said, struggling with--for Norah--an unaccountabledesire to cry. "Oh, don't let him go!"

"No, " said the Hindu, decidedly. "Him hurt you? Me kill him. "

The last remark was uttered conversationally, and the man against thetree cried out in fear. Lal Chunder flung at him a flood of rapidHindustani, and he collapsed into shivering silence. Probably it wasrather awe-inspiring--the great black-bearded Indian, with his keen, enraged face and the voice that seemed to cut. But to Norah he was avery haven of refuge. 

"Oh, you mustn't kill him, " she said. "The boys will be here--mencoming--quick! Can you hold him?"

"Hold him--yes--tight, " said Lal Chunder, tightening his grip as hespoke, to the manifest discomfort of the man against the tree. Thencame distant voices, and a snatch of a School song, mingled with quickhoofs; and Norah caught her breath in the sharpness of the relief. Sherode out on the track, calling to Jim. 

The boys pulled up, the horses plunging. 

"Norah! What on earth--"

Norah explained rapidly, and Jim flung himself off, tossing Garryowen'srein to Wally, and ran to her. 

"Kiddie--you're all right? He didn't hurt you?" The boy's voice wasshaking. 

"Only my wrists, " said Norah, and then began to shudder as the memoryof the struggle in the trees came back to her. Jim put his arm abouther. 

"Thank heaven for that blessed Indian!" said he. "Steady, oldgirl--you're all right, " and Norah recovered herself. 

"Yes, I'm all right, Jimmy, " she said, a little shakily. "What aboutLal Chunder?"

"Here's the buggy, " said Wally, and in a moment Murty and Boone were onthe scene, when it was the work of a few minutes to tie the prisonerwith halters and hoist him into the buggy, where he lay veryuncomfortable, with his head close to the splashboard. There was muchexplanation, and it would probably have gone hard with the prisoner butfor Jim, as Murty and Boone wanted to deal out instant justice. 

"Not good enough, " Jim said. He was rather white, in the glow of thebuggy lamps. "He'll be better safe in gaol. " He turned to Lal Chunder, who had drawn close to Norah, and was contemplating his right hand, which had been nearly shaken off by the four from Billabong. TheHindu's English was not equal to his sense of friendship, andconversation with him lacked fluency. It was some time before Jim couldmake him understand that they wanted him to return to the station--andindeed, it was Norah who made it clear at last. 

"Me want you, " she said, taking the dusky hand in hers. "Come back tomy home. " She pointed towards the direction of Billabong. Lal Chundercapitulated immediately. 

"It is an order, " he said, gravely; and forthwith climbed into thebuggy, a weird figure between the two stockmen, their faces stillflushed with anger as they looked at the man lying between their feet. 

"We'll put him away in the lock-up, an' be out agin in no time, MastherJim, " said Murty. "Take care of her me boy. " And the stockman, who hadknown Norah since her babyhood, choked suddenly as he looked at herpale face. Norah was herself again, however, and she smiled at himcheerily. 

"I'm right as rain, Murty!" she said, in the Bush idiom. "Don't youworry about me. "

"'Tis pluck y' have, " said the Irishman. He turned the buggy with somedifficulty, for the track was narrow, and they spun off on the returnjourney to Cunjee, while Norah, between the two boys, was once more onthe way to Billabong. 

"You're sure you're all right, Nor. ?" Jim said, looking at her keenly. 

"Yes--truly, Jim. " Norah had made up her mind not to say too much. Therewas nothing to be gained by harrowing them with unnecessarydetails--and, child-like, the memory of her terror was already fading, now that care and safety had again wrapped her about. "I was a bitscared, but that's all over. "

"Then, " said Jim, "can you tell me where is Cecil?" His voice wasdangerously calm. 

"Oh, he--he went on, " Norah said. "We had a dispute, and he was a bitput out. "

"A dispute? What about?"

"He wanted to ride Bobs. "

"DID he?" Jim said. "And because you wouldn't let him, he cleared outand left you?"

"Well, he was offended, " Norah replied slowly, "and I dare say hethought I would catch him up--instead of which I hung back, hoping youboys would catch ME up. So it wasn't really his fault. "

"He must have known you would be coming through that timber by yourselfin the dark. "

"Oh, most likely he reckoned I'd have you with me by that time. Hedoesn't understand very well, does he? He didn't mean any harm, Jim. "

"I don't know what he meant, " Jim said, angrily. "But I know what hedid--and what he'd have been responsible for if Lal Chunder hadn'thappened along in the nick of time. Great overgrown calf! Upon my word, when I see him--"

"Oh, don't have a row, Jim, " Norah pleaded. "He's a guest. "

"Guest be hanged! Do you mean to say that's excuse for behaving like acad?"

"Ah, he wouldn't mean to. Don't tell him about--about Lal Chunder--andthe man. "

"Not tell him?" Jim exclaimed. 

"Well, not to-night, anyhow. Promise me you won't have a rowto-night--and if you tackle him when you get home there will be a row. Wait until Dad comes home. " finished Norah, a little wearily. 

Behind her, Wally leaned across to his chum. They pulled back a little. 

"I say--don't worry her, old man, " Wally said. "I guess she's had a bitof a shock--let's try and keep her mind off it. Do what she asks. " AndJim nodded. 

"All right, old woman, " he said, coming alongside again. "I won't slayhim to-night--don't bother your little head. We'll let Dad fix him. "

Norah's grateful look rewarded him. 

"Thanks, Jimmy, " she said. "I--I'm feeling like having a little peace. And he'd never understand, no matter what you said. "

"I suppose he wouldn't, " Jim agreed. "But he's a worm! However--thestorm's coming, and if we don't want wet jackets we'd better travel. "They tore homewards through the hot night. Presently Wally started achorus, and both boys were relieved when Norah joined in. They noddedat each other cheerfully behind her back. So, singing very lustily, ifnot in the most artistic fashion, they reached the Billagong stablesjust as the first heavy drops were falling. 

Within, Cecil met them, a little nervously. 

"I thought you were lost, " he said. 

"H'm, " said Jim, passing him, and struggling with his promise. "Sorryyou and Norah had any difference of opinion. "

Cecil flushed. 

"Possibly I was--ah--hasty, " he said. "I did not consider I asked Norahmuch of a favour. "

"That's a matter of opinion. At any rate, Cecil, I may as well tell youstraight out that I don't consider it would be at all wise for you toride Bobs. "

"I'm not likely to hurt him. "

"He might very likely hurt you. He's not an easy pony to ride. "

Cecil's little laugh was irritating. 

"What?" he said. "I don't profess to be a jockey, but--a child's pony?"

Jim very nearly lost his temper. 

"You won't be convinced, " he said, "and I've no desire to convince youwith Bobs. But take my advice and let Norah alone about her pony. You've a very good mare to ride. "

"That old crock!" said Cecil, scornfully. 

Jim stared. 

"Crock!" he said. "Well, you won't find many hacks to beat old Betty, even if in your mighty judgment she is a crock. And, anyhow, Bobs isNorah's, and no one else has any say about him. There's the bell;ready, chaps?"

The meal was scarcely lively. Cecil maintained an offended silence, andJim was too angry to talk, while Norah was silent and a little pale. However, Cecil retired to his room immediately he had finished; and theboys set themselves to the task of diverting Norah, fearful lest theevening's adventure should have any bad effect on her. They succeededso well that by bedtime Norah had forgotten all her troubles, and wasweak with laughter. When Wally set out "to blither, " as he said, he didnot do things by halves. 

Jim came into Norah's room and switched on her light. 

"Sure you're all right, kiddie?"

"Rather!" said Norah. "I've laughed too much to be anything else. "

"Then go to sleep laughing, " said Jim, practically. "I'm quite close ifyou want anything. "

"Oh, I won't want anything, thanks, " Norah answered. "Good-night, Jimmy. "

"Good-night, little chap. "

Norah tumbled hastily into bed and slept dreamlessly. She did not knowthat Jim dragged a sofa and some rugs along the corridor, and sleptclose to her door. 

"Kid might dream and wake up scared, " he said to Wally, a littleapologetically, before mounting guard. It was Jim's way. 

CHAPTER XVI

A CHILD'S PONY

 With the spirit of fire and of dew To show the road home to them all. KENDALL. 

It was quite early next morning when Cecil awoke. One of his grievancesagainst the country was the way in which the birds acted as alarumclocks every day, rousing him from his well-earned slumbers fully anhour before even the earliest milk cart rattling along the suburbanstreet fulfilled a similar purpose at home. Generally, he managed toturn over and go to sleep again. This morning, however, he wasunusually wakeful. 

He lay turning in his mind his anger against his cousins. Little causesfor annoyance, simple enough in themselves, had been brooded over untilthey made up a very substantial total; and now, last night's happeningscapped everything. In his own heart of hearts he knew that he had smalljustification for his childish outbursts of anger; only it was notCecil's nature to admit any such thing, and if justification were notevident, his mind was quite equal to manufacturing it. At the end ofhalf an hour's gloomy pondering he had worked himself up into a finestate of ill usage, and into the firm belief that Norah and the boyshad no intention but to insult and humiliate him. 

To some natures there is a certain comfort in nursing a grievance, andreasoning themselves into a plaintive state of martyrdom. When Cecilfinally rolled angrily out of bed, he was almost cheerful in thecontemplation of his own unhappiness. They were determined to sneer athim and lessen his pride, were they? Well, they should see. 

Just what they were likely to see, Cecil did not know himself, but thereflection was soothing. Meanwhile, the birds were maddeningly active, and an unusual restlessness was upon him. He dressed slowly, putting onflannels, for the day promised heat, and went downstairs. 

Sarah and Mary were busy in the hall, and lifted astonished eyebrows atseeing the boy down before the others; as a rule Cecil strolled intothe dining-room barely in time for breakfast, or was late altogether. He took no notice of them, but wandered out to the back, where Browniewas found instructing a new kitchen assistant in the gentle art ofcleaning a stove. She, too, showed amazement at the apparition, butrecovered sufficiently to offer him tea and scones, to which Cecil didjustice. 

"Be you all going out early?" Brownie asked. 

"Not that I know of. " Cecil's tone did not encourage conversation. 

"Seein' you so unusual early, I thought there was some plan on, " saidBrownie. "Master Jim's great on makin' plans, ain't he? (Meriar, elbowgrease is one of the necessariest things in gettin' a shine on astove--don't let me catch you merely strokin' it again!) An' MissNorah's always ready to back him up--wunnerfull mates them two has alwuzbeen, an' Master Jim has ever and alwuz looked after her, from thed'rekly-minute he could walk!"

"Ah?" said Cecil. 

"Well may you say so, " said Brownie, inspired by her subject. "Asloving-kind a pair as could be, have them two been; and as proud ofeach other--! Well, any one who reads may run! An', Master Jim nevermindin' her being on'y a girl; not that that has 'ampered Miss Norahmuch, I will say, seein' how she rides an' all. I'm sure it's a pictureto see her on that there Bobs, an' the dumb beast knows every singleword she says to him. They'll fret for each other cruel, Bobs an' her, when she goes to school. "

Brownie's enthusiasm was ill-timed, as far as Cecil was concerned;indeed, she could scarcely have hit upon a subject less palatable tohim. Still, it was useless to interfere with the old woman; so hegulped down his tea hastily, listening with ill-concealed impatience toher talk of Norah and Bobs, and then escaped abruptly. 

"H'm!" said Brownie, looking after him. "Not a word out of me noble--noteven a thank you! Too much of a fine gentleman for Billabong, like hisma before him!"

"Young gent don't seem to cotton to Miss Norah, " remarked the astute, if new, Maria, who had been listening with all her ears. 

"When you're asked for your opinion about your betters, Meriar, it maybe time to shove in your oar; but until then let me advise you to keepit in your own head, " said Brownie severely. "At present your work isrubbin' that stove, and if it ain't done in remarkable quick time it'llhave to be blackleaded all over again, bein' as how it'll have got toodry!" Appalled by which awful possibility, Maria fell to work withwonderful vigour, dismissing all lesser matters from her mind. 

Meanwhile, Cecil strolled across the yard, and thence towards thestockyards, where a trampling of feet and a light cloud of dust showedthat the men had got in the horses for the day. He selected a cleanplace on the top rail carefully, and cast his eye over the little mobstanding in groups about the enclosure--a dozen stock horses; the bigpair of greys that were used in the covered buggy or the express wagon;the brown ponies that Norah drove; his own mount Betty, and Wally'smare Nan; and then the aristocrats, Garryowen and, last of all, Bobs. Norah's pony was standing near an old black horse for which he had agreat affection. They were nearly always to be found together in theyards or paddocks. Even unbrushed as he was, the sunlight rippled onhis bay coat when he moved, showing the hard masses of muscle in hisarched neck. 

"Beauty, ain't he?" It was Mick Shanahan, on his way to another paddockto bring in some colts. He pulled up beside Cecil, the youngster he wasriding sidling impatiently. 

"Yes, he's a nice pony, " said Cecil, without enthusiasm. 

"Well, I've seen a few, but he beats 'em all, " said the horsebreaker. "A ringer from the time he was a foal--and he's only improved since Ifirst handled him, four year ago. Worth a pot of money that pony is!"He laughed. "Not as his particular owner'd sell him, I reckon. MissNorah acts more by that chap than by anything else she's got!"

"I suppose so, " Cecil said, seeing that he waited for a reply. 

"Yes, my word! Take 'em all round, they'd be hard to beat as a pair, "said Mick, lighting his pipe in apparent ignorance that his horse wasindulging in caracoles that appeared likely to end in a buckingdemonstration. He threw the match away after carefully extinguishingit, and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "Quiet, y' image, can't y'? Who'shurtin' y'? Well, I must be goin'--so long. " Cecil nodded casually, andthe impatient pupil went off in a series of bounds that struck the cityboy as alarming, although Mick did not appear to notice that his mountwas not walking demurely. 

Several other men came to the stockyard, selected each a horse, andsaddled it, and disappeared in various directions. The old black horse, Bob's mate, was taken by Joe Burton, who harnessed him into a dray thatstood near, loaded up a number of fence rails, and drove off over thepaddock, evidently to a job of repairing some boundary. Cecil watchedthem crawl across the plain, until they were only a speck on the grass. Then he turned his sullen eyes on Bobs, who, left alone, had comenearer to the fence where he sat, and was sleepily flicking with histail at an intrusive fly, which insisted on walking round his hip. Cecil stared at him for some minutes before his idea came to him. 

Then he flushed a little, his hand clenching on the post beside him. Atfirst the idea was fascinating, but preposterous; he tried to put itfrom him, but it came back persistently, and his mind held it with akind of half-fearful excitement. They had said he could not ride him--achild's pony! Would he show them?

Once he entertained the idea at all he could not let it go. It would besuch an easy way of "coming out on top"--of showing them that in onething at least their opinion was worthless. That Jim's words were true, and that he could not master Bobs, he ridiculed loftily. It wasimpossible for him to believe that what a child of fourteen did soeasily he might not be able to do. He had never seen Bobs other thanquiet; and though big and well bred and spirited, he was still only apony--a child's pony. Visions floated before him of increased respectpaid him by the men, and even by his uncle, when he should havedemonstrated his ability to manage something better than old BrownBetty, flicking at the flies in her corner of the yard, withdown-drooped head, and then--he wanted to ride Bobs; and all his lifeCecil Linton had done what he wanted. 

He slipped down from the fence and went across to the stables for asaddle and bridle, entering the harness room a little nervously, butrelieved on finding no men about. Returning, he caught Bobs--who stoodlike the gentleman he was--and brought him outside, where hisunaccustomed fingers bungled a little with the saddle. The one he hadchosen in his haste had a breastplate, but this he could not manage atall; and at last he managed to get the bewildering array of straps off, and hang it over the fence. He buckled on a pair of spurs he had foundin the harness room. Then he gathered up the reins and clambered intothe saddle. Possibly, had he let Bobs feel the spur, his ride wouldhave ended there and then, and there would have been no furtherdevelopments in Cecil's excursion; and it is certain that he would havespurred him cheerfully, had not the pony moved off at once. As it washe sat back and felt exceedingly independent and pleased with himself. He turned him down the home paddock. 

"Phwat are y' doin' on that pony?"

Murty O'Toole had come out of the men's quarters, and was gazingopen-mouthed at the unfamiliar figure on Bobs--"the city feller, " foronce not apparelled in exaggerated riding clothes, but in looseflannels; already the legs of the trousers had worked up from his lowshoes, disclosing a vision of brilliant sock. Cecil took no notice. 

"Hallo, there! Shtop a minnit! Who put y' on Bobs?"

"Mind your own business, " said Cecil, between his teeth, looking round. 

"My business, is it? Sure, 'tis my business, if 'tis anny man's onBillabong! Did Miss Norah say y' could ride her pony?"

"What's that to you?"

"Be gob!" said Murty, "'tis more to me than it is to you, seein' 'tismeself knows Miss Norah's feelin's an' disposition about Bobs! Did shegive y' leave? Tell me, or I'll pull y' off, if y' was the Boss' nevvyten times over!"

"WILL you?" Cecil spat the words at him bitterly. He shook the reins, and Bobs, impatient enough already, broke into a canter that carriedhim away from the good friend who had intervened on his behalf. Theyshot across the paddock. 

Murty, left helpless, said a few strong things as he looked after theretreating pair. 

"It's a guinea to a gooseberry he's taken Frinch lave wid him, " hesaid, "bitther tongued little whipper-snapper that he is! Sure if Bobsgets rid av him it'll serve him sorry, so 'twill. But phwat'll I doabout it, at all?" He scratched his head reflectively. "If I go over'twill only worry Miss Norah to hear--an' it's most likely he'll haveenough av it pretty soon, an' the pony'll come home--an I do not care ifhe comes home widout him! I'll lave it be f'r awhile. " He went slowlyover to the stockyards. 

Cecil, cantering over the grass with Bobs' perfect stride beneath him, was, for the moment, completely satisfied with himself. He had routedthe enemy in the first engagement, and, if he had not left himspeechless, at least he had had the last word. Murty and he had been atdaggers drawn from the very first day, when the grinning Irishman hadpulled him out of the wild raspberry clump in the cutting-out paddock;and the cheerful friendliness with which Jim and Norah treated thestockman had always irritated him. He was exceedingly pleased that onthis occasion he had scored at his expense. 

Where should he go? There were three gates leading out of the homepaddock--one to the Cunjee road; another to a similar well-cleared plainto that on which the house stood; and a third into a smaller paddock, which in its turn led into part of the rougher and steeper part of therun. Cecil wanted to get out of sight quickly. In his mind there was ahalf-formed idea that Murty might saddle a horse and come out inpursuit; and a hand-to-hand encounter with the justly indignantIrishman was just at that moment the last thing that the boy wanted. Sohe decided upon the bush paddock, and headed in that direction. 

Now, a horse that is always ridden by one person is apt to developideas of his own--possibly through acquiring habits insensibly from hisusual rider. Also, he becomes accustomed to that one rider, and isquite likely to be annoyed by a change--not alone in weight and in styleof riding, but in the absence of the sympathy that always existsbetween a horse so managed and the one who cares for him andunderstands him. The alien hand on his mouth had irritated Bobs fromthe first; it was heavy, and jerky, where Norah's touch was as afeather; and the light, firm seat in the saddle was changed for aweight that bumped and shifted continuously. Further, it was not veryusual for Norah to ride in this direction--he had headed naturally forthe second gate before his tender mouth was suddenly wrenched asidetowards the third. Bobs arrived at the gate in something considerablyremoved from his usual contented state of mind. 

The gate was awkward, and Cecil clumsy at shutting it; he hauled thepony's mouth roughly in his efforts to bring him into position where hecould send home the catch. The same performance was repeated at thenext gate--the one leading into the bush paddock; and when at lengththey turned from it Bobs' mouth was feeling the bit in a manner thatwas quite new to him, and as unpleasant as new. He sidled off in arough, jerky walk, betraying irritation in every movement, had Cecilbeen wise enough to know it. 

Cecil, however, was still perfectly content. He was out of sight of thehouse, which was comforting in itself; while as for the idea that hewas not completely master of his mount, he would have been highlyamused at it. It was pleasant to be out, in the morning freshness; andthere was no need to hurry home, since the scones and tea in thekitchen had made him independent of breakfast. The paddock he was inlooked interesting, too; the plain ended in a line of rough, scrub-grown hills which it occurred to him would be a good place toexplore. He headed towards them. 

Bobs walked on, inwardly seething; jerking his head impatiently at theunceasing pressure on his bit, and now and then giving a little halfkick that at length attracted Cecil's attention, making him wondervaguely what was wrong. Possibly something in the saddle; it hadoccurred to him when cantering that his girth was loose. So hedismounted and tightened it, bringing it up with a jerk that pinchedthe pony suddenly, and made him back away. This time Cecil did not findit so easy to mount. He was a little nervous as he rode on--and there isnothing that more quickly communicates itself to a horse thannervousness in the rider. Bobs began to dance as he went, and Cecil, hauling at his mouth, broke out into a mild perspiration. He decidedthat he was not altogether an easy pony to ride. 

A hare jumped up abruptly in the grass just ahead. Bobs shied andplunged--and missing the hand that always understood and steadied suchmistaken energy, gave a couple of rough "pig-jumps. " It was more thanenough for Cecil; mild as they were, he shot on to the pony's neck, only regaining the saddle by a great effort. The reins flopped, and theindignant Bobs plunged forward, while his rider clawed for support, hisfeet and hands alike flying. As he dropped back into the saddle, thespurs went home; and Bobs bolted. 

He had never in his life felt the spur; light and free in every pace, Norah's boot heel was the utmost correction that ever came to him. Thissudden cruel stab on either side was more than painful--it was a suddenshock of amazement that was sharper than pain. Coming on top of all hisgrievances, it was too much for Bobs. Possibly, a mad race would ridhim of this creature on his back, who was so unlike his mistress. Hisheels went up with a little squeal as he bounded forward beforesettling into his stride. 

Cecil gave himself up for lost from the first. He tugged frantically atthe rein, realizing soon that the pony was in full command, and thathis soft muscles might as well pull at the side of a house as try tostop him. He lost one stirrup, and clung desperately to the pommelwhile he felt for it, and by great good luck managed to get his foot inagain--a piece of good fortune which his own efforts would never havesecured. The pommel was too comforting to be released; he still clungto it while he tried to steady himself and to see where he was going. 

The plain ended abruptly just before him, and the rough hills slopedaway to the south. Perhaps, if he put Bobs at the steepest it mightcalm him a little, and he might be able to pull him up. So he wrenchedthe pony's mouth round, and presently they were racing up the face ofthe hill, which apparently made no difference whatever to Bobs. Cecilhad not the slightest idea that his heels were spurring the pony atevery stride. He wondered angrily in his fear why he seemed to becomemomentarily more maddened, and sawed at the bleeding mouth in vain. They were at the top of the hill now. The crest was sharp andimmediately over it a sharp drop went down to a gully at the bottom. Itwas steep, rough-going, boulder-strewn and undermined with wombatholes. Perhaps in his calmer moments Bobs might have hesitated, butjust now he knew nothing but a frantic desire to escape from that cruelagony in his sides. He flung down the side of the hill blindly, makinggreat bounds over the sparse bracken fern that hid the ground. Cecilwas nearly on his shoulder now--a moment more would set him free. 

Then he put his foot on a loose boulder that gave with him and wentdown the slope in a flurry of shifting stones. He made a gallant effortto recover himself, stumbling to his knees as Cecil left the saddle andlanded in the ferns--but just as he struck out for firmer footing hisforefoot sank into a wombat hole, and he turned a complete somersault, rolling over and over. He brought up against a big boulder, struggledto rise and then lay still. 

 * * * * *

Presently Cecil came limping to him, white and angry. 

"Get up, you brute!" he said, kicking him. When there was no response, he took the bridle, jerking it. Bobs' head gave a little at every jerk, but that was all. 

Between rage and fear, Cecil lost his head. He kicked the ponysavagely; and finding that useless, sought a stick and thrashed him ashe lay. Once Bobs struggled, but only his head and shoulders came up, and presently they fell back again. Cecil gave it up at last, and lefthim alone, limping down to the gully and out of sight. He sat down on alog for a long while, until the sun grew hot. Then he pulled his hatover his eyes and set off towards home. 

Bobs did not know he had gone. He lay quite still. 

CHAPTER XVII

ON THE HILLSIDE

 Never again, when the soft winds blow, We shall ride by the river. G. ESSEX EVANS. 

Wally came into breakfast with a rush and a scramble, bearing traces ofa hasty toilet. At the table Norah and Jim were eating solemnly, withexpressions of deep disapproval. They did not raise their eyes as Wallyentered. 

"Awfully sorry!" said he. "You've no idea of the difficulties I've hadto overcome, Norah, and all along of him!" indicating Jim with a jerkof his head. "Oh, Norah, do be sympathetic, and forget that he's yourbrother. I assure you I'd be a far better brother to you than ever hecould, and you can have me cheap! Look up at me, Norah, and smile--oneperfect grin is all I ask! He took my towel and dressed Tait in it, andfor all he cared I would be swimming in that beastly lagoon yet, anddying of cramp, and nervous prostration, and housemaid's knee. And shegoes on gnawing a chop!"

He sat down, and buried his face in his hands tragically, and began tosob, whereat Norah and Jim laughed, and the victim of circumstancesrecovered with promptitude. 

"Cream, please, " he said, attacking his porridge. "Oh, he's a beast, Norah. I'm blessed if I know why you keep him in the family--it can't befor either his manners or his looks! I have a hectic cough coming onrapidly. My uncle by marriage three times removed died of consumption, and it's a thing I've always been nervous about. When I occupy thefamily urn with my ashes you'll be sorry!"

"I should be more than sorry if it were this urn, " Jim put in, grinning. "It might be an honour, of course; but we've other homelyuses for the urn. How long did you swim, Wal. ?"

"Never you mind, " returned Wally wrathfully. "I don't see why I shouldsatisfy any part of your fiendish curiosity--only when Brownie findsTait wearing one of the best bath towels as a toga, and makes remarksabout it, I shall certainly refer her to you!"

"I never saw a dog look so miserable as he did, " Norah said, laughing. "He came straight up to me, with a truly hang-dog air, and folds oftowel ever so far behind him in the grass, and didn't get back hisself-respect until I took it off. Poor old Tait! You really ought to beashamed of yourself, Jimmy. "

"I am, " said Jim cheerfully. "Toast, please. "

"When I saw Tait last he was disappearing into the landscape with allhis blushing honours thick upon him!" Wally said. "I don't see why youwaste all your sympathy on the brute, and give me none. It's thegreatest wonder I'm here at all!"

"Where's Cecil, anyhow?" asked Jim, suddenly. 

"Haven't an idea--how should I? He wasn't in the lagoon, which is theonly place I could give an expert opinion on this morning. "

"Oh, he's late as usual, " Norah said. "I suppose he's still cross aboutlast night. Really, Jim, I'm sorry we've managed to rub him up thewrong way. "

"Why, the difficulty would be to find the right way, " Jim retorted. "He's such a cross-grained beggar--you never know when you're going tooffend him; and of course he's perfectly idiotic about the horses. Wonder if he thinks we LIKE horses with sore backs and mouths! He'llhave to give poor old Betty a spell, anyhow, for she's a patch on herback the size of half a crown, thanks to him. "

"Oh, dear!" said Norah, with a little shiver. "That's awfully badnews--'cause I'd about made up my mind to offer him Bobs!"

"Offer--him--Bobs!" said Jim slowly. Wally gasped. 

"Just for a ride, Jimmy. He's a guest, you know, and I don't like himto feel ill-used. And you let him on Garryowen. "

"Only for a moment--and then with my heart in my boots!" said Jim. "Norah, I think you're utterly mad if you lend him Bobs--after lastnight, too! Why, you know jolly well I'VE never asked you for yourpony!"

"Well, you could have had him, " Norah answered, "you know that, Jimmy. I don't want to lend him to Cecil--I simply hate it; but I don't likethe idea of his thinking we treated him at all badly. "

"He's the sort of chap that would find a grievance if you gaveeverything you had in the world, " Jim said. "It's all rot--and I tellyou straight, Nor. , I don't think it's safe, either. Bobs is all rightwith you, of course, but he's a fiery little beggar, and there's noknowing what he'd do with a sack of flour like that on his back. I wishyou wouldn't. "

"What do you think, Wally?"

"Me? Oh, I'm with Jim, " Wally answered. "Personally, I think avelocipede is about Cecil's form, and it's absolute insult to a ponylike Bobs to ask him to carry him! And you'd hate it so, Nor. '!"

"Oh, I know I would, " Norah said. "He's such a dear--"

"What! Cecil?"

"No, you donkey--Bobs, " Norah continued, laughing. "I'd feel likebegging his pardon all the time. But--"

"Murty wants to see you, Master Jim, " said Mary, entering. "Says he'dbe glad if you could spare him a minute. "

"All right, Mary--thank you, " said Jim, getting up lazily and strollingout. "Back in a minute, you two. "

"What happens to-day, Norah? Marmalade, please, " said Wally, in abreath. 

"The marmalade happens on the spot, " laughed Norah, handing it to him. "Otherwise--oh, I don't know, unless we ride out somewhere and fish. Wehaven't been out to Angler's Bend this time, have we?"

"No, but that's fifteen miles. You'd never let Cecil ride Bobs thatdistance?"

"Oh, I couldn't!" said Norah, hastily. "I don't think I possibly couldride anything except Bobs out there. Cecil might have him another day, if Jim doesn't think me quite mad. Perhaps I won't be sorry if he does, 'cause I'd hate to go against Jim! And Bobs is--"

"Bobs, " said Wally gravely; and Norah smiled at him. "Hallo, Jamesy--what passion hangs these weights upon thy brow?"

Jim had entered quickly. 

"It's that beauty Cecil, " he said, angrily. "My word, Norah, I'll letthat young man know what I think about him! He's taken Bobs!"

"What!"

"Gone out on Bobs before breakfast. Must have got him in the yard, andsaddled him himself. Murty saw him just as he was riding off, and triedto stop him. Here's Murty--he'll tell you. "

"Sure, I towld him to stop, Miss Norah, " said the stock-man. "Axed him, I did, if he'd y'r lave, and he gev me back-answers as free as y'please. I was perfickly calm, an never losht me timper, an' towld himI'd pull him off av the little harse if he'd not the lave to take him;an' he put the comether on me by cantherin' off. So I waited, thinkin'not to worry y', an' that he'd be comin' back; or more be token Bobswidout him, an' small loss. But he's elsewhere yit, so I kem in f'rMasther Jim. "

"Well, I'm blessed!" said Norah, weakly. 

"The mean little toad!" Wally's voice was full of scorn. "I'd like fivequiet minutes with him with coats off when he comes back!"

"I guess he'll get that--or its equivalent, " said Jim, grimly. "Whichway did he go, Murty?"

"To the bush paddock, Masther Jim. He's that stupid, tin to one he'sbushed in one av thim gullies. "

"Or else Bobs has slung him; but in that case Bobs would be back at thegate, " Jim said. "Perhaps he is. "

"No, he ain't, Masther Jim, I wint over a bit an' had a look. There'sno sign av either av thim. "

"Well, I suppose we'd better go after them, " Jim said. "What'll youride, Nor? Would you care for Garryowen?"

Norah smiled at him. 

"No, thanks, old man. I'll have Cirdar, " she said. "Can you get him, Murty?"

"In two twos, Miss Norah, " said the stockman, departing hastily. 

"You're not worried, Norah, old girl?" Jim said. 

"Why, not exactly; he can't hurt Bobs, of course, beyond a sore back, "Norah answered. "I'm more cross than worried--it is such cheek, Jim, isn't it? All the same, I hope Cecil's all right. "

"Him!" said Jim, with fine scorn. "That sort never comes to any harm. Well, hurry up, and get your habit on, old chap. "

There was no need to tell Norah to hurry. She flew upstairs, Brownieplodding after; the news had flown round the house in a few moments, and there was a storm of indignation against the absent Cecil. 

"If I'd knowed!" said Brownie, darkly, bringing Norah's linen coat outfrom the wardrobe, and seeking with vigour for a felt hat that alreadywas on her head. "Me, givin' him tea and scones, an' talkin' about thepony, too, no less; little I guessed at the depths of him. Never mind, my dearie, Master Jim'll deal with him!"

"Oh, it'll be all right, if Bobs hasn't hurt him. Only there'll be anawful row when Jim gets him. I never saw Jim so angry, " Norah said. 

"A good thing, too!" said the warlike Mrs. Brown. "There you are, dearie, an' there's your 'unting-crop. Off you go!" and Norah randownstairs, finding Jim and Wally waiting, boots and leggings on. Theyset off, Murty muttering dark threats against Cecil as he shut the gateof the stable yard after them. 

Wally had recovered his cheerfulness, never long absent from him, andwas, besides, not unpleasantly excited at the thought of war ahead. Hechattered gaily as they rode through the first two paddocks. But Jimremained quiet. As Norah said, she had never seen him so angry. Anxietyin his mind warred with hot anger against the insult to Norah and tothem all. He swept the bush paddock with his eye as they came up to it, seeing nothing but the scattered bullocks here and there. 

"Wonder which way he'd go, " he said. "Suppose you and Wally cut over tothe right, Norah, and see if you can find any trace. I'll go over thisway. We'll coo-ee to each other if we come across him. " They separated, and Jim put Garryowen at a canter across the plain. Here and there hecould see a track--and something made him wish to go on alone. 

He was nearly at the foot of the hills when a figure came out fromtheir shadow. Jim gave a sudden little sound in his throat as he sawthat it was Cecil--and alone. He was limping a little, and had evidentlybeen down. Relief that he was safe was the first thought; then, anxietybeing done with, there was no room for anything but anger. Jim rodetowards him. At the sight of his approach Cecil started a little, andcast a glance round as if looking for a hiding place; then he came ondoggedly, his head down. 

"I've been looking for you, " Jim said, controlling his voice withdifficulty. "Where's Bobs?"

"Over there. " Cecil jerked his hand backwards. 

"Where?"

"Back there. "

"What do you mean? did he get away from you?"

"He bolted, " Cecil said. 

"And threw you?"

Cecil nodded. "Yes--can't you see I'm limping?"

"Well, did he clear out again?"

"No--he's over there. "

Jim's face went grim. "Do you mean--you don't mean the pony's HURT?"

"He won't get up, " said Cecil, sullenly. "I've tried my best. "

For a moment they faced each other, and then Cecil quailed under theyounger boy's look. His eyes fell. 

Jim jumped off. "Go on. "

"Where?"

"Back to Bobs, of course. Hurry up!"

"I can't go back there, " Cecil said, angrily. "I'm limping, and--"

"Do you think your limp matters an atom just now?" Jim said, throughhis teeth. "Hurry up. "

He followed Cecil, not trusting himself to speak. A dull despair lay onhis heart, and above everything a great wave of pity for the littlesister across the paddock. If he could spare Norah--!

Then they were in the gully, and he saw Bobs above him, and knew inthat instant that he could spare her nothing. The bay pony lay where hehad fallen, his head flung outwards; helplessness in every line of theframe that had been a model of strength and beauty an hour ago. As Jimlooked Bobs beat his head three times against the ground, and then laystill. The boy flung round, sick with horror. 

"Why, you vile little wretch--you've killed him!"

He had Cecil in a grip of iron, shaking him as a dog shakes a rat--notknowing what he did in the sick fury that possessed him. Then suddenlyhe stopped and hurled him from him into the bracken. He ran down thegully. 

"Go back, Norah dear--don't come. "

Norah and Wally had come cantering quickly round the shoulder of thehill. She was laughing at something Wally had said as they rode intothe gully, and the laugh was still on her lips as she looked at Jim. Then she saw his face, and it died away. 

"What is it, Jim?"

"Don't come, kiddie, " the boy said, wretchedly. "Wally, you take herhome. "

"Why?" said Norah. "We saw Cecil--where's Bobs?" Her eyes were wanderinground the gully. They passed Cecil, lying on his face in the bracken, and travelled further up the hill. Then she turned suddenly white, andflung herself off Sirdar. 

Jim caught her as she came blindly past him. 

"Kiddie--it's no good--you mustn't!"

"I must, " she said, and broke from him, running up the hillside. Jimfollowed her with a long stride, his arm round her as she stumbledthrough the ferns and boulders. When they came to Bobs he held her backfor a moment. 

The pony was nearly done. As they looked his head beat the ground againunavailingly, and at the piteous sight a dry sob broke from Norah, andshe went on her knees by him. 

"Norah--dear little chap--you mustn't. " Jim's voice was choking. "Hedoesn't know what he's doing, poor old boy--it isn't safe. "

"He wants me, " she said. "Bobs--dear Bobs!"

At the voice he knew the pony quivered and struggled to rise. It was nouse--he fell back, though the beautiful head lifted itself, and thebrown eyes tried to find her. She sat down and took his head on herknee, stroking his neck and speaking to him... Broken, pitiful words. Presently she put her cheek down to him, and crouched there above him. Something of his agony died out of Bobs' eyes. He did not struggle anymore. After a little he gave a long shiver, straightening out; and sodied, gently. 

 * * * * *

"Come on home, old kiddie. "

It seemed a long time after, Norah could not think of a time when shehad done anything but sit with that quiet head on her knee. Sheshuddered all over. 

"I can't leave him. "

"You must come, dear. " Jim's hands were lifting Bobs' head as tenderlyas she herself could have done it. He picked her up and held her asthough she had been a baby, and she clung to him, shaking. 

"If I could help you!" he said, and there were tears in his eyes. "Oh, Nor. --you know, don't you?"

He felt her hand tighten on his arm. Then he carried her down the hill, where Garryowen stood waiting. 

"The others have gone, " he said. "I sent them home--Wally and--thatbrute! I've told him to go--I'll kill him if I see him again!" He liftedher into his saddle, and keeping his arms round her, walked beside thebay horse down the gully and out upon the plain. 

"Jim, " she whispered--somewhere her voice had gone away--"you can't gohome like that. Let me walk. " His arm tightened. 

"I'm all right, " he said--"poor little mate!"

They did not speak again until they were nearly home--where, ahead, Brownie waited, her kind eyes red; while every man about the homesteadwas near the gate, a stern-faced, angry group that talked in savageundertones. Murty came forward as Jim lifted Norah down. 

"Miss Norah, " he said. "Miss Norah, dear--sure I'd sooner--"

The tall fellow's voice broke as he looked at the white, childish face. 

"Thanks, Murty, " Norah said steadily. 

"And--all of you. " She turned from the pitying faces, and ran indoors. 

"Oh, Brownie, don't let any one see me!"

Then came a dazed time, when she did not know anything clearly. Once, lying on her bed, with her face pressed into the pillow, trying not tosee a lean head that beat on the ground, she heard a dull sound thatrose to an angry shout from the men; and immediately the buggy droveaway quickly, as Wally took Cecil away from Billabong. She onlyshivered, pressing her face harder. Jim was always near at first; thetouch of his hand made her calm when dreadful, shuddering fits cameover her. All through the night he sat by her bed, watchingceaselessly. 

Then there was a longer time when she was alone, and there seemed muchgoing to and fro. But no sounds touched her nearly. She could onlythink of Bobs, lying in the bracken, and calling silently to her withhis pain-filled eyes. 

Then, late on, the second evening, Jim came back with a troubled faceand sat on the bed. 

"Norah, " he said, "I want you. "

"Yes, Jim?"

"I want you to be brave, old chap, " he said slowly. Something in histone made her start and scan his tired face. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"It may be all right, " Jim said, "but--but I thought I'd better tellyou, Norah, they--we can't find Dad!"

CHAPTER XVIII

BROTHER AND SISTER

 We were mates together, And I shall not forget. W. H. OGILVIE. 

Jim had not wanted to tell Norah. It had been Brownie who hadcounselled differently. 

"I think she's got enough to bear, " the boy had said, sitting on theedge of the kitchen table, and flicking his boots mechanically with hiswhip. He had been riding hard almost all day, but anxiety, not fatigue, had put the lines into his face. "What's the good of giving her anymore?"

"I do believe it'd be best for her, the poor lamb!" Brownie had said. "She's there all day, not speaking--it'll wear her out. An' you know, Master Jim, dear, she'd never forgive us for keepin' anything back fromher about the master. "

"No--but we've nothing definite. And it may make her really ill, comingon top of the other. "

"I don't think Miss Norah's the sort to let herself get ill when therewas need of her. It may take her poor mind off the other--she can't helpthat now, an' he was only a pony--"

"Only a pony! By George, Brownie--!"

"Any horse is only a pony when compared to your Pa, " said Brownie, unconscious of anything peculiar in her remark. "I don't know that realanxiety mayn't help her, Master Jim. And any'ow, it don't seem to mewe've the right to keep it from her, them bein', as it were, thatpartickler much to each other. Take my tip, an' you tell her. "

"What do you think, Wally?"

"I'm with Brownie, " said Wally, unexpectedly. "It's awful to see Norahlying there all day, never saying a word, and this'll rouse her up whennothing else would. " So Jim had yielded to the weight of advice, andhad gone slowly up to tell Norah they could not find David Linton. 

"Can't find him?" she echoed, "but isn't he at Killybeg?"

"He left there yesterday morning, " Jim answered. "A telegram came fromhim last night, and it was important--something about cattle--so I sentBurton into Cunjee with it--Killybeg's on the telephone now, you know, and Burton could ring him up from the post office. But the Darrellswere astonished, and said he'd left there quite early, and meant tocome straight home. "

"Well?" Norah was white enough now. 

"Well, I got worried, and so did Murty; because you know there isn'tany stopping place between here and Killybeg when you come across theranges. And Monarch's pretty uncertain--in rough country, especially. SoI got Murty and Wally to go out at daylight this morning, taking thestraight line to the Darrells, and they picked up his tracks pointinghomewards about five miles from the Billabong boundary. Murty madeMonarch's shoes himself, and he could swear to them anywhere. Theyfollowed them awhile, and they came to a place where the ground wasbeaten down a lot, as if he'd had trouble with Monarch; I expectsomething scared him, and he played the fool. But after that the tracksled on to some stony rises, and they lost them; the ground was toohard. They could only tell he'd gone right off the line to Billabong. "

"Jim! Do you think--? Oh, he couldn't be hurt! Monarch would never getrid of him. "

"He'd stick to Monarch as long as the girth held and Monarch stood up, "Jim said, "but it's rough country, and a young horse isn't handy onthose sidings. Of course it may be all right; but if so, why wasn't hehome twenty-four hours ago?"

"Have you done anything?"

"Been out all day, " Jim said. "Murty sent Wal. Straight home while hewent on looking, and we went back with three of the men. But you knowwhat that country is, all hills and gullies, and the scrub's so thickyou can scarcely get through it in places. We found one or two hoofmarks, but that was all. If he's not home to-night we're going out atdaybreak with every hand on the place. "

"I'm coming. "

"I knew you'd want to, " Jim said, anxiety in his tone. "But I don'tthink you're fit to, old girl. "

"Jimmy, I'd go mad if I stayed behind. "

"Oh, I know that, too. But you'll have to stay near me, Norah, and ifyou're coming you've got to eat now; Brownie says you've touchednothing all day. "

Norah shivered a little. "I'm not hungry. "

"No, but you've sense, old chap. You'd be the first to say one of uscouldn't go out without proper food. Try, won't you?"

"I'll try, " Norah said, obediently. 

"Brownie's got dinner for Wally and me in the breakfast-room, " Jimsaid. "Wouldn't you come down, old girl? It's only old Wal. , you know, and--and he's so awfully sorry for you, Nor. He's been such a brick. Ithink it would cheer him up a bit if you came down. "

"All right, " Norah said, hesitating a moment. "But I'm bad company, Jim. "

"We're none of us lively, " said the boy. "But we've got to help eachother. " And Norah looked at him gently, and came. 

Dinner was quiet, for the shadow hung upon them all. Wally tried totalk cheerfully, checked by a lump that would rise in his throatwhenever he looked at Norah, who was "playing the game" manfully, trying hard to eat and to be, as she would have said, "ordinary. " Theytalked of the plans for the next day, when a systematic search was tobe made through the scrub near where the tracks had been found. 

"Each of us is to take a revolver, " Jim said; "there are fivealtogether, and the men who haven't got them will have to use theirstockwhips as signals if they find anything. Three shots to be fired inthe air if help is wanted. And Brownie has flasks ready for every one, and little packets of food with some chocolate; if he's come to griefit'll be nearly forty-eight hours since he had anything to eat. Two ofthe men are to take the express wagon out as far as it can go, witheverything to make him comfortable, if--if he's hurt. Then they can ridethe horses on to help us search. " Jim forced a sorry smile. "Won't hegrin at us if he turns up all right? We'll never hear the end of it!"Then he got up abruptly and walked to the window, looking out acrossthe moonlit flats; and they were all silent. 

"I keep thinking all the time I hear him coming, " Jim said, turningback into the room. "If you keep still, you can almost swear you canhear old Monarch's hoofs coming up the track--and half a dozen timesI've been certain I caught the crack of his stockwhip. Of course, it's--it's all imagination. My word! it's hard to loaf about here and goto bed comfortably when you want to be hunting out there. "

"You couldn't do any good, though?" asked Wally. 

"No--it would be madness to go straying round those gullies in themoonlight; it's not even full moon, and there the timber's so thickthat very little light can get through. There's nothing for it but towait until daylight. "

"It's hard waiting, " Norah said. 

"Yes, it is. But you ought to go to bed, old woman; you had preciouslittle sleep last night, and the big bell is to ring at daylight. "

"Then won't you boys go, too?"

"Yes, I guess we'd better, " Jim said. "I'll come in and say good-nightto you, Norah. " A look passed between them; the boy knew his fathernever failed to pay a good-night visit to Norah's room. She smiled athim gratefully. 

It was very lonely and quiet up there, undressing, with her heart likelead within her. She hurried over her preparations, so that she mightnot keep Jim waiting when he came; she knew he needed sleep--"a big boyoutgrowing his strength like that, " thought Norah, with the quaintlittle touch of motherliness that she always felt towards Jim. Once shecaught sight of something on the end of the couch; the white rug thathad been Jim's Christmas present, with the scarlet B standing outsharply in the corner--the rug Bobs would never use. Shivering a little, she put it away in her wardrobe. Just now she could only think of thatmost dear one--perhaps lying out there in the cold shadows of the bushnight. She crept into bed. 

Jim came in in his shirt sleeves. 

"Comfy, little chap?"

"Yes, thanks, old man. Jim--shall I ride Sirdar tomorrow?"

"You needn't have asked, " the boy said--"he's yours. And, Norah--I knowDad wouldn't mind. I'd like you to have Garryowen. He's a bit big, buthe'll suit you quite well. I know he won't make up, but you'd get fondof him in time, dear. "

"Jim!" she said--knowing all that the carelessly spoken wordsmeant--"Jimmy, boy. " And then Jim was frightened, for Norah, who had notcried at all, broke into a passion of crying. He held her tightly, stroking her, not knowing what to say; murmuring broken, awkward wordsof affection, while she sobbed against him. After a while she grewquiet, and was desperately ashamed. 

"I didn't mean to make an ass of myself, " she said, contritely. "I'mawfully sorry, and you were such a brick to me, Jimmy. I won't everforget it; only I couldn't take your horse. I love you for it. ButSirdar will do for me quite well. " And no arguments could shake herfrom that decision. 

Jim put the light out after some time. Then he came back and sat downon the bed. 

"I wanted to tell you, dear little chap, " he said, gently. "I sent Mickout with Boone to-day, and--and they buried him under that big treewhere he fell, and heaped up stones so that nothing could get at him. "He stopped, his voice uncertain as Norah's hand tightened in his. 

"Mick said there couldn't have been any hope for him, kiddie, " he wenton, presently. "His back was broken; no one could have done anything. "He would not tell her of other things Mick had seen--the spur woundsfrom hip to shoulder and the marks of the stick that Cecil had throwndown beside the pony he had ridden to his death. "They carved his nameon the tree in great big letters. Some time--whenever you feel youcan--I'll take you out there. At least"--his hand gripped hers almostpainfully--"Dad and I will take you. "

Norah put her face against him, not speaking. They stayed so, herbreath coming and going unevenly, while Jim stroked her shoulder. Presently he slipped to his knees by the bed, one arm across her, notmoving until her head nestled closer, and he knew she was asleep. Thenthe big, tired fellow put his own head down and went to sleep as heknelt, waking, stiff and sore, in the grey half light that justprecedes the dawn. He crept away noiselessly, going out on the balconyfor a breath of the chill air. 

Below him, against the stockyard fence, a black shadow stood andwhinnied faintly. Jim's heart came into his throat, and he swunghimself over the edge of the balcony, using his old "fire escape" toslide to the gravel below. He ran wildly across to the yard. 

A moment later the big bell of the station clanged out furiously. 

Norah, fastening her habit with swift fingers, ran to open the door inanswer to Jim's voice. 

"Hurry all you know, little chap, " he said. "I'm off in a fewminutes--breakfast's ready. Wally's going into Cunjee with a telegram toMelbourne for the black trackers, as hard as he can ride. "

"Jim--there's something you know!"

He hesitated. 

"I'd better tell you, " he said. "Monarch's come home alone, Norah!"

CHAPTER XIX

THE LONG QUEST

 The creek went down with a broken song, 'Neath the she oaks high; The waters carried the song along, And the oaks a sigh. HENRY LAWSON. 

The big black thoroughbred still stood by the rails as they rode away. He had got rid of the saddle, and the broken bridle trailed from hishead. No one had time to see to him. 

Billabong was humming with activity. Men were running down to theyards, bridle in hand; others leading their horses up to be saddled;while those who were ready had raced over to the quarters for asnatched breakfast. Sirdar and the boys' horses had been stabled allnight, so that they were quickly saddled. Jim was riding Nan; Wally, onGarryowen, was already a speck in the distance. 

"You'll be quicker if you take him, " Jim had said. Then he and Norahhad cantered away together. 

"Monarch wasn't hurt, Jim?"

"He'd been down, I think, " Jim said; "His knees look like it. But he'sall right--why, he must have jumped three fences?"

After that for a long time they did not speak. Grim fear was knockingat both their hearts, for with the return of the black horse withouthis rider, their worst dread was practically confirmed. It was fairlycertain that Mr. Linton was helpless, somewhere in the bush, and thatmeant that he had been so for nearly two days, since it was almost thattime since he had ridden away from Killybeg. 

Two days! They had been days of steady, relentless heat, untempered byany breeze--when the cattle had sought the shade of the gum trees, andthe dogs about the homestead had crept close in under the treelucernes, with open mouths and tongues lolling. The men working on therun had left their tasks often to go down to the creek or the river fora drink; in the house, closely shuttered windows and lowered blinds onthe verandahs had only served to make the heat bearable. And he hadbeen out in it, somewhere, helpless, and perhaps in pain; with nothingto ease for him the hot hours or to save him from the chill of aVictorian night, which, even in midsummer, may be sharply cold beforethe dawn. The thought gnawed at his children's hearts. 

They passed through the billabong boundary and out into the roughcountry beyond, sharply undulating until it rose into the ranges DavidLinton had crossed on his way to and from Killybeg. They had beenfairly certain that he had come through them safely on his way home, and the thought had been a comfort--for to seek a man in those hills wasa hopeless task. But suddenly a sick fear came over Norah. 

"Jim, " she said, "we don't know where Monarch got rid of Dad, ofcourse?"

"No; but I expect it was near where they picked up his tracks. "

"You don't think it might have been in the ranges?"

Jim looked suddenly aghast; but his face cleared. 

"No, " he said, decidedly; "I don't. That place where Monarch had beenplaying up shows Dad must have been on him--a horse alone doesn't go tomarket as he seems to have done there. I guess you can put that notionout of your head, mate. " He smiled at Norah, who answered him with agrateful look. 

Five miles from the boundary they came upon the tracks--to see them gaveNorah a queer sense of comfort, since in a way they brought her intouch with Dad. Then they separated, beating into the scrub that hemmedthem round everywhere, except when low, stony hills rose naked out ofthe green undergrowth. 

"We must shout to each other every few minutes to make sure we're notgetting too far apart, " Jim said. "Of course, it's not so risky whenyou're riding--if you gave old Sirdar his head anywhere I know he'd takeyou home. Still, you don't gain anything by going far apart. Asystematic search is what's necessary in a place like this, where youmight ride half a dozen yards from him and not see him. Keep Tait withyou, Norah. "

"All right, " Norah nodded. "What about coo-eeing, Jim? He might hear ashout and answer it, even if he couldn't see us. "

"Yes, but you can't keep coo-eeing all the time, " said Jim, practically. "I'll tell you what--sing or whistle. You can do thateasily, and it doesn't tire you. And of course, if you find him, firethe revolver--you're sure you've got it carefully?"

"Yes, it's all right, " Norah replied, showing the revolver in its neatleather case. Jim and her father had taught her its use long ago, andshe understood it quite well. Mr. Linton held the view that all womenin the bush should know how to handle fire arms, since the bush is aplace where no one ever knows exactly what may turn up, from burglarsto tiger snakes. "Fire three times in the air, isn't it, Jim?"

"Yes, that's right. Go on then, kiddie, and do take care!" Jim's voicewas strained with anxiety and wretchedness. While Norah was full ofhope, and, indeed, could scarcely realize that they might not find Dadsoon, the boy had the memory of the fruitless search all the previousday to dispirit him. As he looked at the forbidding wall of greenscrub, his feeling was almost one of despair. 

It did not take long for Norah to realize the difficulty of their task. She beat up and down among the trees, striving to keep an eye in everydirection, since any one of the big stumps, any clump of brushwood, anyold log or little knoll or grassy hollow might hide the one shesought--unable, perhaps, to see her or call to her even should she passin his sight. She remembered Jim's advice, and began to sing; but thewords died in her throat, and ended in something more like a sob. Whistling was more possible, and mechanically she took up a tune thatWally used to sing, and whistled it up and down the scrub as she went. Soon she did not know that she was doing so; but years after she usedto shudder within herself if she heard that foolish little tune. 

The men came out a little later, and soon the scrub was alive withvoices and the noise of the searching. It was weary work, with many aflutter at the heart when a sudden call would bring Norah to attention, rigid and listening--forgetting for the moment that only the threesignals agreed upon were to give evidence of success. Hour after hourwent by. 

They had settled a certain signal to meet for lunch, and when itfinally summoned them the searchers struggled out of the bush one byone. Jim's heart smote him as he saw Norah's white face, and he beggedher to cease; to stay resting during the hot afternoon, even if shewould not go home. Norah shook her head dully. She could not do it; andJim, knowing how he would have felt were he in her place, did not pressher, although he was miserably anxious. They sat down together on anold log, finding a shred of comfort in each other's nearness. 

It was a silent party that gathered round when black Billy had the bigquart pots of tea ready. No one seemed to have anything to say. Norahthought, with a catch at her heart, of the last time they had picnickedin the scrub; the happy talk and laughter, the dear foolish jokes andmerriment. This was indeed a strange picnic--each man eating rapidly andin silence, and everywhere stern preoccupied faces. There was nowaiting afterwards for the usual "smoke oh"; the men sprang up as soonas the hurried meal was over, and lit their pipes as they strode away. Soon the temporary camp was deserted--black Billy, the last to leave, muttering miserably to himself, hurrying back into the bush. The searchwent on. 

There was no riding in the afternoon; they were in country where thetangle of dogwood and undergrowth was so thick that to take a horsethrough it meant only lost time, and hindered the thoroughness of thequest. Norah fought her way through, keeping her line just as the menkept theirs; her white coat stained and torn now, her riding skirtshowing a hundred rents, her boots cut through in many places. She didnot know it; there was only room in her heart for one thought. When, while waiting for lunch, she had heard Dave Boone say something in anangry undertone about Bobs, she had wondered dully for a moment what hemeant. She had forgotten even Bobs. 

The hours went by, and the sun drooped towards evening. In the darkheart of the scrub the gloom came early, making each shadow a place ofmystery that gave false hope to the searchers a hundred times. Gradually it was too dark to look any more; for that day also they mustgive it up--the third since Monarch had broken free from his master andleft him lying somewhere in the green fastness about them. Therescarcely seemed a yard of it left unsearched. Despair was written onmost of the faces as the men came one by one to their horses and rodehome, picking up on their way those who were still beating the bush asfar as the Billabong boundary. 

Jim and Norah were the last to leave. They came back to the horsestogether, Tait at their heels, his head and tail down. Norah wasstumbling blindly as she walked, and Jim's arm was round her. He puther up, and turned silently to unfasten his own bridle. 

"Jim, " she said, and stopped. "Jim, do you think we'll find him in--intime?"

Jim hesitated, trying to bring himself to say what he dared no longerthink. Then he gave way suddenly. 

"No, " he said, hoarsely, "I don't; I don't believe we ever will!" Heput his head down on the saddle and sobbed terribly--dry, hard sobs thatcame from the bottom of his big heart. And Norah had no word ofcomfort. She sat still on Sirdar, staring in front of her. 

Presently Jim stood up and climbed into the saddle, and the impatienthorses moved off quickly towards home, Tait jogging at their heels. Once Jim turned towards his sister, saying, "Are you quite knocked up, old girl?" Norah only shook her head--she did not know that she wastired. Neither spoke again. 

It was perhaps a mile further on that Norah pulled up sharply, andwhistled to Tait. The collie had slipped off into the undergrowth--shecould hear him moving on dry sticks that crackled beneath him. Hewhined a little, but did not come. 

"Don't wait, " Jim said. "He'll catch us up in a minute. "

"He always comes if I whistle, " Norah answered, her brow puckering. "Idon't understand. Wait a moment, Jim. " She had slid off her pony andfollowed Tait almost before Jim realized that she was gone. 

The dog was nosing along a big log, the ruff on his neck bristling. AsNorah saw him he leaped upon it, and down on the other side. Then sheheard him bark sharply, and flung herself over the log after him. Hewas licking something that lay in the shadows, almost invisible atfirst, until the dim light showed a white glimmer. It was instinct morethan sight that told Norah it was her father's face. 

"Daddy--oh, Dad!"

The wild cry turned Jim to stone for a moment--then he was off his horseand through the scrub like a madman to where Norah knelt beside thestill form, sobbing and talking incoherently, and screwing blindly atthe cap of the flask she carried. They forced a little of the stimulantbetween the set teeth, once a terrified examination had told them thathe still breathed; then Jim struck match after match, trying to see theextent of his injuries--a hopeless task by the flickering light thatlasted only an instant. He put the box in his pocket at last. 

"It's no good, " he said, "we can't see. Wonder if the men are out ofhearing. " Running to the horses, standing patiently with trailingbridles, he fired off all his revolver shots in quick succession, andcoo-ed again and again. Then he went back to where Norah sat in thedarkness and held her father's hand. 

"Don't wait, " she said. "I'm sure they're out of hearing, Jim, darling. And we couldn't dare to move him by ourselves. Tear in and bring themen--and send for the doctor. "

"I don't like to leave you here alone, " he said, anxiously. 

"Alone!" Norah said, in amazement. "But I've got Dad!"

"Yes, " he said, "but--"

"Oh, do fly, Jimmy!" she said. "Leave me the matches. I'm all right. "

She heard him crash back to the horses, and then the swift thud ofNan's hoofs grew fainter and fainter as he spurred her madly over therough ground, galloping off for help. The darkness seemed all at onceto be more complete, and the scrub to come closer, like a curtain roundthem--round her and Dad, who was found again. She put her ear close tohis mouth--the breathing was a little more distinct, and so far as shecould tell his head was uninjured. One leg was doubled up beneath himin an ugly manner. Norah knew she must not try to move it; but even inthe darkness she was sure that it was badly hurt, and the tears werefalling on David Linton's face as Norah crept back after herexamination. It was horrible to see Dad, of all people, helpless andstill. 

Perhaps it was the tears that woke him from his stupor. He stirred alittle, and groaned. At the sound, Norah, on her knees beside him, trembled very exceedingly, with a mixture of joy and fear that almosttook her breath. She spoke softly. 

"Dad!"

"Is it--you?" said David Linton, weakly. The darkness hid his face, butto hear his voice again was wonderful; and Norah's hands shook as shewrestled with the flask. 

"Yes, it's me, " she said. "Oh, Dad, dear old Dad, are you much hurt?"

"I don't know. " The voice was very faint. Her fears surged back. 

"Try to drink some of this--it's weak, and you won't choke, " she said. "Is your head hurt, Daddy? Could I lift it a little?"

"Not hurt, " he managed to say. So she groped in the darkness to liftthe heavy head, and together they made a sorry business of the flask, spilling far more than he drank. Still, some went the right way; andpresently he spoke again, his voice stronger. 

"I knew you'd come... Mate. "

"Tait found you, " she said. "And Jim was here, but he's gone for themen. We'll take care of you, Daddy. Could I move you any way to help?"

"Better not, " he said. "Just--be there. " His hand closed on hers, and heseemed to slip off into unconsciousness again, for when she spoke tohim he did not answer. So Norah sat and held his hand; and the nightcrept on. 

"Coo-ee!" Far off a shout. She slipped her hand away gently, and ran alittle way before answering, lest the cry should startle him. Then sheshouted with all her strength; and soon the beat of hoofs came nearerand out of the darkness Jim came back, Murty galloping with him. 

"He's spoken, " said Norah; "but he's gone off again. And he's had somewhisky. "

"Did he know you?"

"Yes; but he's terribly weak. " They were all beside Mr. Linton now, andMurty struck a match, and carefully shading it, scanned the fallenman's face by its glimmer. Norah saw his own change as he looked. Thenthe match went out, and for a moment it was darker than ever. 

"They're bringing things, " Jim said. He took off his coat and spread itover his father, and Murty did the same. "And the doctor's coming--it'swonderful luck--he came out from Cunjee with Wally. " Jim put his hand onNorah's. "Were you all right, old kiddie?"

"Quite right, " said she. Then they waited silently until a rattle ofwheels came as the express wagon clattered up. Murty went out to thetrack to bring the doctor in. 

Dr. Anderson cast a glance at Norah by the light of the lanterns theyhad brought, and spoke to Jim. 

"Take her away, " he said. "I don't want you, either. Murty and Boonewill help me. " So the two who were only children wandered off into thescrub together, sitting on a log, silently, in sick anxiety, while thedoctor was busy. A groan came to them once, and Norah shuddered and puther face into her hands, while Jim, who had himself shivered at thesound, put his arm round her, and tried to whisper something, only hisvoice would not come. Then--ages later, it seemed--the doctor's voice:

"Are you two there?"

They hurried to him. 

"We'll get him home, " the doctor said. "A risk, moving him; but it'sworse to leave him lying under that log. The men are getting some ofthe dogwood down, so that we can carry him out better. He's badlyknocked about, but his head's all right. The leg is the worst; it'sfractured in two places. You'll have a patient for a good while, Norah. "

"Then--then he won't die?"

"Die?" said the doctor. "Not a bit of it! He'll--ah, you poor child!"For Norah had turned and clung to Jim, and was sobbing, while the bigfellow who bent over her and patted her was himself unable to speak. Little Dr. Anderson patted them both, and choked himself, though he hidit professionally with a cough. He remarked afterwards that he had notknown that young Norah Linton could cry. 

It was only for a minute, though. The men came back carrying astretcher, and Norah and Jim sprang to help. Very gently they liftedDavid Linton's unconscious form, and the four bore him slowly to thewagon, Norah backing in front with two lanterns to light every step. 

"Chancy work through them dorgwood spikes, " said Dave Boone. But theycame out safely, and got him into the wagon, where a mattress was inreadiness. The doctor heaved a sigh of relief when the business wasdone. So they took him home, the grey horses pulled into a slow walk, while Jim and Norah rode ahead to find the smoothest track. 

It was past midnight when the lights of the homestead came into view;but everywhere Billabong was up. The men were round the open gate ofthe yard, from Andy Ferguson, the tears running unheeded down his oldface, to Lee Wing, for once without his wide benevolent smile, and inthe background Lal Chunder's dark face. Beyond them was Mrs. Brown, with the pale-faced girls behind her. There were a score of willinghands to bring David Linton into his home. 

A little later Jim came out to where Norah waited in the hall, a littlehuddled figure in one corner of a leather armchair. 

"He's quite comfortable, " he said; "hasn't spoken, but the doctor saysit's a natural sleep, and Brownie and he are going to sit with him. Oldkiddie, are you awfully tired?"

"I'm not tired one bit!" said Norah, with no idea that she was notspeaking the exact truth. 

"H'm!" said Jim, looking at her. He went into the dining-room, returning a minute later with a glass of wine. 

"You're to have this, " he said authoritatively, "and then I'm going toput you to--"

He broke off, looking at her with a little smile on his tired face. Norah had put her head down on the arm of the big chair, and was fastasleep. 

CHAPTER XX

MATES

 The sleepy river murmurs low, And far away one dimly sees, Beyond the stretch of forest trees, Beyond the foothills dusk and dun, The ranges sleeping in the sun. A. B. PATERSON. 

Autumn was late that year at Billabong, and the orchard trees werestill green, though a yellow leaf showed here and there in the Virginiacreeper, as David Linton lay on the verandah and looked out over thegarden. From his couch he could see the paddock beyond, and here andthere the roan hides of some of his Shorthorns. They did not generallygraze there; but Jim had brought some into the paddock the day before, remarking that he was certain his father would recover much morequickly if he could see a bullock now and then. So they grazed, and layabout in the yellow grass, and David Linton watched them contentedly. 

From time to time Mrs. Brown's comfortable face peeped out from door orwindow, with an inquiry as to her master's needs; but he was not anexacting patient, and usually met her with a smile and "Nothing, Brownie, thanks--don't trouble about me. " Lee Wing came along, shouldering a great coil of rubber hose like an immense grey snake, andstopped for a cheerful conversation in his picturesque English; andBilly, arriving from some remote corner of the run, left his horse atthe gate and came up to the verandah, standing a black statue in shirt, moleskins and leggings, his stockwhip over his arm, while Mr. Lintonasked questions about the cattle he had been to see. Afterwards Mrs. Brown brought out tea, having met and routed with great slaughterSarah, who was anxious to have the honour that up to to-day had beenNorah's alone. 

"It's dull for you, sir, " she said. "No mistake, it do make adifference when that child's not in the house!"

"No doubt of that, " Mr. Linton said. "But I'm getting on very well, Brownie, although I certainly miss my nurses. "

"Oh, we can make you comferable an' all that, " Brownie said, disparagingly. "But when it comes to a mate, we all know there ain'tany one for you like Miss Norah--though I do say Master Jim's as handyin a sick-room as that high-flown nurse from Melbourne ever was--I'mglad to me bones she's gone!" said Brownie, in pious relief. 

"So am I, " agreed the squatter hastily. "Afraid I don't take kindly tothe imported article--and I'm perfectly certain Norah and she nearlycame to blows many times. "

"An' small wonder, " said Brownie, her nose uplifted. "Keepin' her outof your room, if you please--or tryin' to--till Miss Norah heard youcallin' her, an' simply came in at the winder! An' callin' her 'ducksybird. ' I ask you, sir, " said Brownie, indignantly, "is 'ducksy bird'the thing anybody with sense'd be likely to call Miss Norah?"

"Poor Norah!" said Mr. Linton, laughing. "She didn't tell me of thatindignity. "

"Many a trile Miss Norah had with that nurse as I'll dare be sworn, she'd never menshin to you, sir, " Brownie answered. "She wouldn't let abreath of anything get near you that'd worry you. Why, it was threeweeks and more before she'd let you be told about Bobs!"

David Linton's brow darkened. 

"I couldn't have done any good, of course, " he said. "But I'm sorry Icouldn't have helped her at all over that bad business. Well, I hopeProvidence will keep that young man out of my path in future!"

"An' out of Billabong, " said Brownie with fervour. "Mr. Cecil's saferaway. I guess even now he'd have a rough time if the men caught him--an'serve him right!"

"He seems penitent, " Mr. Linton said, "and even his mother wrote abouthim more in sorrow than in anger. The atmosphere of admiration in whichhe has always lived seems to have cooled, which should be an uncommonlygood thing for Cecil. But I don't want to see him. "

"Nor more don't any of us, " Brownie said, wrathfully. "Billabong hadenough of Mr. Cecil. Dear sakes!--when I think of him clearin' away fromMiss Norah that night, an' what might have 'appened but for thatblessed 'eathen, Lal Chunder, I don't feel 'ardly Christian, that Idon't! Not as she ever made much of it--but--poor little lamb!"

Mr. Linton's face contracted, and Brownie left the topic hastily. Italways agitated the invalid, who had indeed only been told of Norah'snight adventure because of the risk of his hearing of it suddenly fromoutsiders or a newspaper. The district had seethed over the child'speril, and Lal Chunder had found himself in the embarrassing positionof a hero--which by no means suited that usually mild-mannered Asiatic. He had developed a habit of paying Billabong frequent, if fleeting, calls; apparently for the sole purpose of looking at Norah, for herarely spoke. There was no guest more welcome. 

Presently Murty O'Toole and Dave Boone came round the corner of theverandah. 

"Masther Jim gev special insthructions not to be later'n half-past fourin takin' y' in, sir, " said the Irishman. "The chill do be comin' inthe air afther that, says he. An' Miss Norah towld me to be stern widye!"

"Oh, did she?" said Norah's father, laughing. "Well, I suppose I'dbetter be meek, Murty, if the orders are so strict--though it's warmenough out here still. "

"The cowld creeps up from thim flats, " Murty said, judicially. "An'whin y' are takin' things aisy--well, y' are apt to take a cowld aisy aswell. "

"I'm certainly taking things far too easy for my taste, " Mr. Lintonsaid, smiling ruefully. "Five weeks on my back, Murty!--and goodnessknows how much ahead. It doesn't suit me. "

"I will admit there's some on the station 'twould suit betther, " Murtyanswered. "Dave here, now--sure, he shines best whin he's on his back!an' I can do a bit av that same meself. ("You can that!" from theoutraged Mr. Boone. ) But y' had the drawback to be born widout a lazybone in y'r body, so 'tis a hardship on y'. There is but wan thingthat's good in it, as far as th' station sees. "

"What's that, Murty?"

"Mrs. Brown here do be tellin' me Miss Norah's not to go away--an'there's not a man on the place but slung up his hat!" said theIrishman. "Billabong wouldn't be the same at all widout the littlemisthress--we had a grudge agin that foine school in Melbourne, so wehad. However, it's all right now. " He beamed on his master. 

"Only a postponement, I'm afraid, Murty, " said that gentleman, whobeamed himself, quite unconsciously. 

"Yerra, it's no good lookin' ahead--time enough to jump over the bridgewhen y' come to it, " said Murty, cheerfully. "Annyhow, she'll not belavin' on us yit. Well, if y' are ready, sir?" He nodded to Boone andtook up his position at the head of Mr. Linton's couch. 

"I'll go into the dining-room, " the squatter said, as they carried himgently into the hall. "Put me near the window, boys--no, the one lookingdown the track. That's all right, " as his couch came to anchor in thebay of a window that gave a clear view of the homestead paddock. Hechatted to them awhile longer before wishing them good-night. 

The stockmen tramped out, making violent efforts to be noiseless. 

"Whisht, can't y'?" said Murty, indignantly, as Dave cannoned into achair in the hall. "Have y' not got anny manners at all, thin, Davy?wid' him lyin' there, an' good luck to him! Did y' see how he made usput his sofy in that square little winder?"

"Why?" asked the slower Mr. Boone. 

"An' what but to see the first glimpse av them kids comin' home? Y' dobe an ass, Davy!" said Murty, pleasantly. "Begob, 'tis somethin' f'r aman's eyes to see how Miss Norah handles that bay horse!"

Left to himself, David Linton made a pretence at reading a paper, buthis eyes were weary, and presently the sheet crackled to the floor, andlay unheeded. Brownie, coming in softly, thought he had fallen asleep, and tiptoed to the couch with a light rug, which she drew over him. They handled him very carefully; although his clean, hard life hadhelped him to make a wonderful recovery, his injuries had been severe;and it would be many weeks yet before he could use his leg, even withcrutches. The trained nurse from Melbourne, who had been more or less anecessary evil, or, as Jim put it, "an evil necessary, " had beendispensed with a week before; and now he had as many attendants asthere were inhabitants of Billabong, with Norah as head nurse andBrownie as superintendent, and Jim as right-hand man. Once there hadbeen a plan that Jim should go North, for other experience, afterleaving school. But it was never talked of now. 

This was the first day, since they had brought her father home, thatNorah had been induced to leave him; and then it had taken a command onhis part to make her go. She was growing pale and hollow-eyed with thelong watching. 

Dr. Anderson, whose visits were becoming rarer, had prescribed a tonic, which Norah had taken meekly, and without apparent results. 

"The tonic she wants is her own old life, " Brownie had said. "Stickin'inside the house all day! it's no wonder she's peakin' and pinin'. Makeher go out, sir. " So David Linton had asserted himself from his couch;and Jim had taken Norah for a ride over the paddocks, and to call forthe mail at the Cross Roads, where the Billabong loose bag was left bythe coach three times a week. 

He was lying with his eyes fixed on the track when they came out of thetrees; both horses at a hand gallop and pulling double. Norah was onGarryowen, her face flushed and laughing, her head thrown back a littleas the beautiful bay reefed and plunged forward, enjoying the speed asmuch as his rider. Jim was a length or so behind on Monarch, whose oneambition at that moment was, in Murty's words, "to get away on him. " Itwas plain that the boy was exulting in the tussle. The sunlight gleamedon the black horse's splendid side as they dashed up the track. 

As yet there had been no talk openly of a successor to Bobs--that woundwas still too sore. For the present Norah was to ride Garryowen, sinceMonarch was far too frivolous to stand a long spell; Jim would handlehim for the months that must elapse before his father was in the saddleagain. Later on, Jim and Mr. Linton had great plans for something veryspecial--a new pony that would not disgrace Bobs' memory, and that wouldfit the unused rug with the scarlet B that lay locked away in Norah'swardrobe. Other things were locked away in her heart; she never spokeof Bobs. But the two who were her mates knew. 

The swift hoofs came thudding up the track and scattered the gravel bythe gate; then there was silence for a moment, voices and laughter, andquick footsteps, and Jim and Norah came in together, their facesglowing. 

"How did you get on, Dad? Were we long?"

"Long!" said David Linton, whose face had grown suddenly contented. "The conceit of some people! Why, I had so much attention paid me thatI scarcely noticed you had gone. " He put up one hand and took Norah'sas she sat on the arm of his couch. "But I'm glad you're back, " headded. They smiled at each other. 

"Conceit's bad enough, " said Jim, grinning, "but insanity's worse. Hadthe maddest ride of my life, Dad--my poor old Garryowen's absolutelycowed, and has no tail left to speak of!" He ducked to avoid a cushionfrom his sister. "It's a most disastrous experiment to keep Norah off ahorse for five weeks!"

"We won't repeat it, " said her father, "not that Garryowen seemed to besuffering from nervous prostration as he came up the paddock--or Monarcheither! Any letters?"

"One from Wally, " Norah cried, "poor old boy. He says school is horridwithout Jim, and he's collar-proud, and they lost the match lastSaturday--he carried out his bat for thirty-seven, though!--and he missesBillabong, and he sends his love and all sorts of messages to you, Dad. I guess Brownie and I will fix up a hamper for him, " concluded Norah, pensively, weighing in her mind the attractions of plum or seed cake, and deciding on both. "And mice pies, " she added, aloud. 

"What?" said her father, staring. "Oh, I see. Any other mail?"

"Oh, the usual pile for you, Dad. Agents' letters and bills and things. Jim has them. We didn't bring the papers. "

"I should think not!" returned her father. "If I catch either of youcarrying loose papers on those horses--well, one broken leg is enough ina family of this size!"

"Too much respect for Monarch, to say nothing of my legs, " said Jim, laconically, producing a handful of letters. "There you are, Dad;that's all. Do you want anything? I'm going down to the little paddockfor a lesson in bullock driving from Burton. "

"How are you getting on in the art?" asked his father, smiling. 

"Oh, slowly. My command of language doesn't seem to be sufficient, forso far the team looks on me with mild scorn. " Jim grinned. "It'snervous work for Joe, too. I got him with the tail of the whipyesterday, when I'd every intention of correcting old Ranger! However, I plod on, and Joe keeps well out of the way now. He yells instructionsat me from some way back in the landscape!"

"Prudent man, Burton, " laughed his father. "A good tutor, too. I don'tknow that I ever saw a man handle bullocks better. Most people don'tcredit bullocks with souls, but I think Joe gets nearer to finding thatattribute in his beasts than the average driver, and with lessexpenditure of energy and eloquence! He's like the man we were readingabout, North:

 "As to a team, over gully and hill, He can travel with twelve on the breadth of a quill!"

"Oh, COULD he?" asked Jim, with much interest. "Well, the width of thepaddock doesn't seem more than enough for me, so far. We wobblemagnificently, the team and I! However, I keep hoping! I'd better begoing. Sure you don't want me, Dad?"

"Not just now, old chap. "

"Well, I'll be back before long. " He smiled at his father and Norah, swinging out over the window ledge, and whistling cheerily until hislong legs had carried him out of sight. 

"He'll be a good man on the place, Norah. "

"Why, of course, " said Norah, a little surprised that statement shouldbe made of so evident a fact. "Murty says he's 'takin' howld wid' bothhands, an' 'tis the ould man over agin, ' though it's like Murty's cheekto call you that. You won't be able to let him go away, I believe, Dad. "

"I don't see myself sparing him to any other place now, " said Mr. Linton. "Nor the head nurse either!"

Norah slipped down beside him. 

"I've been thinking, " she said, a little anxiously. "It's been solovely to think of no old school until midwinter--but I'd go sooner--whenyou're quite well--if you're worried really, Dad. I don't want to be aduffer--and of course I don't know half that other girls know. "

"Jim will be able to keep you from going back, I expect, " her fathersaid, watching the troubled face. "He won't be exactly a stern tutor, and possibly lessons may be free and easy; still, after all, Jim was aprefect, and the handling of unruly subjects is probably not unknown tohim. "

"If Jim attempts to be a prefect with me, " said Norah, "things will bemixed!" She laughed, but the line came back into her forehead. "It'snot the lessons I was thinking of, Dad. "

"Then what is it?"

"Oh, all the other things I don't know that other girls do. Do youthink it really matters, Dad? I know perfectly well I don't do my hairproperly--"

"I seem to like it. "

"And I can't talk prettily--you know, like Cecil did; and I don't know asingle blessed thing about fancywork! I'd--I'd hate you to be ashamed ofme, Dad, dear!"

"Ashamed?" He held her close; and when he spoke again there wassomething in his voice that made Norah suddenly content. 

"Little mate!" was all he said.