They started off, and the big driver said, loudly enough for those they were leaving to hear, “Thank you, gentlemen; I daresay you two will be able to help me a bit.”
They started off together on the back trail, Buck Denham pointing out how they had trampled down the herbage, brushing off the dew and here and there breaking down twigs.
“Ah!” he suddenly exclaimed. “Here’s poor old Peter’s trail. See that? He must have crawled along here. But I don’t see the spoor of any of my beasts—yes, I do,” he cried, a few yards farther. “They went along here in a drove. Then we had better turn off and follow them up. I don’t suppose they will have gone so very far. Say, Mr Mark, sir; do you know why I wanted you two to come with me?”
“To help find the bullocks,” said Dean sharply.
The man chuckled as he trotted on along the marks made by the animals.
“No,” he said. “It’s all plain enough. I didn’t want any help. Why, you two could find them if you went far enough. I wanted to get summut off my mind.”
“Something off your mind?” said Mark.
“Yes, sir; I don’t like to speak out and get another fellow into trouble, but I felt as you two ought to know, and then you could talk it over between yourselves and settle whether you ought to tell the boss.”
“Tell my father?” said Mark.
“Yes, sir, or the doctor; and perhaps he will think the poor fellow’s got it bad enough without facing more trouble.”