“Me send Terebare long ago—come by-m-by.”
“Good man,” faltered Mrs. Bell, “there’s nothing can be done till they come.”
At length, after a weary waiting of some six or seven hours, Dromoora’s well-practised ear caught the sound of hoofs, and rushing out, and then along the track, he encountered the horsemen before they reached the “slip-rails” of the home-paddock.
As they galloped, so Dromoora ran alongside Mat’s horse, giving our forester an account of the fight in a few hurried sentences, which Mat interpreted to his companions.
Not a word spoke the squire or Mat as they flung themselves off their horses at the steps of the verandah.
The squire and Tabor went into the house, Mat into the bachelors’ quarters to his room, and returning immediately, called out the squire, and told him that he was off at once on the tracks of the bushranger, and bade the old man not to fret. Bell pressed his hand, and in a husky whisper said,—
“Find my daughter, Mat, and God prosper you; I will come after you soon.”
Just previous to the raid of the bushrangers on Bulinda Creek, on a clear morning, with a touch of frost in the air, two hawkers, named Langridge, father and son, were travelling with a light cart along one of the many tracks which led from the Blue Mountains to Sydney.
These men had been up country with fancy goods, and having disposed of them to their satisfaction, were returning in high spirits to their native town. The particular road which they were using was new to them, and they had camped in one of Bell’s paddocks without being aware that the station was close to them.
Whilst engaged discussing the various classes of goods which they should lay in for their next trip, their little dog, which had been frisking along in front of the horse, suddenly turned off the track into the long grass, and commenced barking round some object lying there.