The convict grasped his hand, and they parted at the mouth of the cavern.
“Nic, my dear,” said Mrs Braydon that night. “You will be obliged to have some more shoes; those last have quite rotted away at the stitching. You seem to be always wading and getting your feet wet. Do be careful, my dear; it is so difficult to get anything new. Is all well about the station?”
“Everything, mother, excepting the loss of those sheep. We must have a dingo hunt. It won’t do to lose any more before father comes home.”
Mrs Braydon sighed.
“It seems so long since we have heard, my dear,” she said. “If it were not that I don’t like to spare you, I would get you to ride over and see how Sir John is getting on.”
Nic thought he would like to go; but he, too, felt that it would not be possible to leave home, and for more reasons than one.