“Yes; and he has nearly ridden poor Sorrel to death,” cried the second girl.
“In his eagerness to get home,” said Mrs Braydon, clinging to her son affectionately. “At last—at last! Oh, my boy, it has seemed so long! But your father, is he just beyond the gully?”
“No, no!” cried Nic excitedly. “A day’s journey away.”
“And you have come alone?”
“Yes; but tell me,” cried Nic. “The blacks: have they attacked you?”
“No, no,” cried Janet quickly; “are they out?”
“Yes; we saw a large party this morning coming to attack the waggon. Father was afraid that they might have been here, and he sent me on for news.”
“No,” said Mrs Braydon, “they have not been near us. But your father?”
“I left him with the two men and the waggon.”
“They’ll be all right, mother,” said the second girl, squeezing up to Nic’s side and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Oh! how wet and hot you are. Sticky boy!”