“They must all have gone away,” thought Nic, just as there was a burst of sharp screams from a flock of cockatoos, which, like the other birds, seemed wilder here in the moist shades than he had found them high up on the park-like downs near the great mountain gorge.
He crept upon his chest cautiously once more to get his eyes just over the sharp rock edge of the pool, to look down into the depths, fully convinced that he would not see a fish; but to his surprise there was quite a shoal of a goodly size slowly sailing about, and after a few moments he was able to make out that they were close by the bait, which lay at the bottom, moving slowly, while one of the largest fish was certainly looking at it.
“Bother!” muttered Nic, as he looked round about and thought of old Sam’s style of fishing. “Well, one can’t catch these with a shovel and a pickaxe. No one could bale out this pool.”
“Having bad luck, sir?” said a deep voice; and Nic started up to find Leather standing close behind.
Chapter Twenty Two.
A Woolly Patient and a Scare.
The man had approached over the soft moss unheard, though Nic had had warning of his coming from the cockatoos, which had shrieked out their alarm notes as he came down from among the sheep.
“Why, Leather, I did not hear you coming,” said Nic, half annoyed by the interruption.