“There can be no harm in me likin’ him,” said Scottie, evasively. “An’ there can be no good in you doin’ the same.”
“There’s the house,” he said presently. “Ye can see the smoke, an’ ye’ll see itsel’ when we rise the crest.”
The valley curved sharply, and the road followed and ran over a shoulder of the ridge and down on to a little plateau, where the out-station buildings and horse paddocks were set.
No men were about the houses, but half-way down the slope, and watching up the valley, they saw one man.
“That’s the cook,” said Scottie, getting down to open the yard gate; “He hasna seen us, an’ he’s watchin’ for some o’ them bringin’ down a few cattle. The station sent over yesterday for meat Hark—I can hear them comin’.”
They could hear from up the valley the pistol-like cracks of a stockwhip, and the deep lowing of cattle, and the rattle of stones. The sounds increased and swelled suddenly to a roar, as a mob of cattle swung round the corner and came surging down towards the slope, at the top of which Ess and Scottie stood. A man cantered easily behind the mob, the long-thonged stockwhip swinging in his hand, and snapping swiftly at any beast that swerved from the mob.
Ess watched the scene spread at her feet, and her eyes shone with pleasure and excitement at the sound of clattering hoofs and rumbling lowings, and the sight of the tossing heads and horns, and shifting colours of the rushing bodies.
“Wait a minute, uncle—please,” she said breathlessly, as Scottie started to lead the horses on. “Isn’t it splendid? I’d no idea cows could run so fast.”
“I keep forgettin’ these things is new t’ye,” said Scottie, halting the horses again. “They’re runnin’ easy enough, though. Ye’ll need tae see them when they’re in a stampede. A good horse has tae stretch himsel’ tae pass them then.”
“How beautifully the man rides; oh——” Ess caught her breath at the whirling speed and suddenness of what followed. Horse and rider shot forward with a rush, swerved from the track, and went clattering and scrambling along the face of the hill past the cattle. The mob was a small one of twenty or thirty, but the track and valley bottom was narrow, and gave no room to pass otherwise. Fifty yards past the head of the mob the rider turned and swooped down to the track again, the loose stones and rocks clattering and roaring at his heels. For an instant Ess thought the horse had fallen, but at the foot he picked up his stride and swept round in a curve. The mob had checked and half turned on itself at sight and sound of the horseman before them, and next moment he was crowding them back, his body swaying lithely in the saddle, and the whip pouring a volley of crackling reports about them. They swung outwards towards the slope where the cook was standing, and the horseman circled round and round them, his whip falling in lightning strokes on any of the brutes that tried to break out. Gradually they steadied and stood, crowding into a compact bunch, heaving restlessly and rattling their horns.