“No, my dear; it was nature’s great need.”
“But I slept like that! What news of father?”
“None, my love,” said Mrs Braydon, with a piteous tremor in her voice.
“I ought to have gone,” cried the boy angrily.
Bang! crash! like blows on the wooden sides of the house.
“What’s that?” cried Nic, starting to his feet.
“Hi! missus!” came in a harsh voice. “Here they are. What did I say?”
“Come?” cried Mrs Braydon wildly.
“Ay, missus. Our black’s just run in to where I was watching beyond the gully. I heard the cracking of Brookes’s whip, too, in the still. There! hear that?” he continued, as there was a faint distant report. “Master’s yonder.”
Nic stepped to the corner of the room, where he had stood his gun when he entered, went to the window, cocked the piece, thrust it out with its barrel pointing upward, and fired, in answer to his father’s signal.