“But are you better?” said Rifle.
“Mine all sore along. Boomer fellow squeezum.”
He spoke rather faintly, and walked slowly as they went back to the blanket-gunyah, where the black lay down directly, uttering a deep groan, as he moved himself painfully.
“There was plenty of water here, Shanter,” said Norman.
“Piggi (the sun) gone sleep. Mine can’t see.”
They spoke to him again, but there was no reply, his breathing told, however, that he had dropped off, and Norman elected to keep watch till morning, and the others went to the tent.
It was just after daybreak when Norman heard a rustling, and looking round there was Tam creeping out from his shelter.
“Make big fire—make damper,” he said quietly, and to the lad’s delight the black went slowly about the task of blowing the embers, and getting a few leaves and twigs to burn before heaping up the abundant supply of wood close at hand.
Breakfast was soon ready, the boys being in the highest of glee, and Shanter sat and ate and smiled broadly at the friendly demonstrations which kept greeting him.
“Mine been along big sleep, get well,” he said in reply to the congratulations showered upon him, and then proved quite willing to sit still while the packhorse was loaded—lightly now—and the others caught, saddled, and bridled, and a glance round given before they made a start to follow the trail back home.