"Do you know what I have got here?"
"Wyck's address."
"I think so, we'll see," and she tore the letter open hurriedly, as if the action hardly commended itself to her. Taking out the enclosure, she read:
"V. Wyckliffe, Royal Hotel, Toowoomba. Two men enquiring for you. Go to back country.—Sal."
"Where's Toowoomba, Hil?"
"It's on the overland road to Sydney, about five hours' journey. Have you a guide?"
"Yes, here we are. Express leaves at 6.30."
"Good! Come, we will have to change our rig. He'll strike off for the back country, the wire shews that. We shall want moleskin trousers and rougher clothes."
"Why? Won't these do?" asked May, not liking the idea.
"Not for the bush, May. Of course, we will go in these and take the others with us in case of emergency. Come on, time is precious," and she led the way to an outfitter's.