"Do you know what time the train goes?" asked Wyck.
"There's one early in the morning, I think," said Abrahams.
"I must catch that."
"I am just as anxious to get back as you are. I don't like the look of the weather, and I should not be surprised if we had a big rain."
"You're right there, boss," chimed in Joe. "I've been thinking the same."
After a hasty breakfast, they made a start and reached Dalby about seven o'clock the same evening. On enquiry, Wyck found a train left at eight and, making Abrahams a present of his turn-out, he left by that train, feeling sure he had attracted no notice whatever. Before leaving, he told Joe to wire him any news to "Grosvenor, Sydney," or "Gaiety, Melbourne," under a false name; and Joe, who had lined his pocket considerably during his acquaintanceship with his chum, promised to keep a sharp look-out.
When the girls left the camp, they followed the tracks of the hawker's waggon, and after a couple of hours' ride pulled up at a water-hole for breakfast. The road was very rough, and they did not reach the station until late. The manager gave them a cordial welcome, considering they were strangers, but could afford no information about anyone resembling Wyck. As they naturally did not care to accept the hospitality offered them, that of the single men's hut, they turned their horses and rode some way back, till they found a good camping-place for the night. The next day looked even more threatening than the day before, and large drops of rain fell before they started.
"I think we are in for a drenching, May," said Hil, looking anxiously round.
"So do I. Let's clear to Dalby as fast as we can."
As they proceeded on their journey the rain fell steadily, and when they reached Dalby, at a late hour, they were wet to the skin. They saw to their horses, dried their clothes, and made themselves comfortable for the night at the hotel.