As the man spoke he examined the pan of his gun, and then took out his knife and began to chip the flint, so that it might be certain to strike out sparks.
“What do you know?” said Nic, looking at the man wonderingly.
“What do I know?” said Brookes, giving him a defiant look: “why, I know it’s that there Leather as is skulking about like a rat, and snatching a sheep whenever he likes.”
“Absurd!” cried Nic indignantly.
“Oh, all right, sir, it’s ’surd, then; you know best, o’ course. You’re master, and I’m on’y a servant; but I say as that there Leather killed all them sheep, and if the doctor was at home he’d soon stop that.”
“Go on, dogs!” shouted Nic, riding forward to hide his annoyance and fidgety looks, for Brookes had looked at him in a way which troubled him.
The blacks led on among the trees and over the pastures, now nearly brown for want of rain; and to Nic’s annoyance the men made for the stretch of country which ran along by the side of the gorge. Then suddenly one of the collies uttered a sharp bark, which was taken up by the other, Nibbler gave forth his deep growl, and as they started off on the scent of something, he followed, and the blacks trotted close behind.
Nic felt a peculiar, sense of hesitation; but his two men started in a run, and he felt that he must go too, though this part of the country seemed to him the least likely for dingoes, and he began to wonder whether the dogs had taken up the scent of a man who had passed that way, and if so, would it be the convict?
Ten minutes later he felt ready to stop the hunt, for the dogs were right on the line he would have himself taken to reach the spring which ran down to the tunnel-like cavern. Certainly it was miles away, but, going at a pretty good speed, Nic felt that the dogs would quickly reduce the distance, and his horror increased.
“They’ll soon have him, Master Nic,” panted old Sam, who ran, in spite of his years, better than his companion, the blacks being now out of sight.