Another voice now breaks the silence, sharp and penetrating.
"Hi! hi! there, you sleepy lubber. Are ye going to lie there all day? Rouse up, laddie!"
This imperative speech was accompanied by vigorous shakings and rollings.
"Well, well," grunted the half-awakened boy, "sounds like Mr. M'Intyre's voice. Never knew him to come into the room be-before. Wish they'd leave us alone. Can't open"—and the next moment Joe had relapsed into sleep. Only for a moment, though. The next he was taken neck and crop, lifted to his feet, and shaken violently, what time a voice rasped his ear drum: "Wake up, wake up, ye young Rip Van Winkle!"
Opening his eyes, the dazed Joe starts at the unwonted scene. He is not in his bedroom, then! What on earth has happened? Who are these that surround him? Why—he's in the bush! And then the truth dawns upon the weary and weakened lad; he was really lost, and—thank God he is found!
He greets the squatter with a wan smile, and, with the grace characteristic of the boy, begins to thank him. But Mr. M'Intyre, patting him affectionately on the back while supporting him with his arm, extracts the cork of a pocket flask with his teeth, and puts it to the lad's mouth.
"Tak' a pu' at this, ma laddie; it'll revive ye wonderfu'."
The brandy worked wonders on the boy, so unaccustomed to it.
"We—we ran the dingo down, sir—Jill and Brin—why, here's ole Brindle! Left him at the water-hole; too sick to follow. The horse too——"
"Horse's all right, Joe. We picked her up at the water-hole, where we'll leave her for a few days, as she's limping badly. Can you sit on the saddle before me?" Joe is sure he can, and no time is lost in starting homewards. M'Intyre, to whom the country was an open book, knew a short cut that would take them home in ten miles.