At the first plunge the water was distinctly cold, but once the first dip was taken Norah forgot all about chilliness, and only revelled in the delights of that big pool. She could swim like a fish—her father had seen to that in the big lagoon at home. Not until Mr. Linton’s warning voice sang out that it was time to dress did she leave the water, and then with reluctance.
A brisk rub down with a hard towel and she rejoined her father. He cast an approving look at her glowing face.
“Well, you look as if you’d enjoyed your swim,” he said.
“Oh it was lovely, Daddy! Did you have a good bathe?”
“Yes—I struck a very good place—deep enough to dive in,” her father answered. “Not that I counsel diving altogether—you strike such a lot of mud at the bottom—soft, sticky, black mud! I spent most of my bathe in getting myself clean after my dive! Still, I had a good swim, notwithstanding. I say, Norah, I’m ready for breakfast.”
“So am I,” said his daughter. “I hope Billy’s got the fish on!”
However, there was no sign of the black retainer when they reached the camp. The fire was blazing and the billy boiling, but of the other Billy no trace existed.
“He’s gone after the horses,” Mr. Linton said. “I told him to see to them—but he ought to be back. I hope they’re all right. Well, you get dressed, Norah.”
By the time Norah’s toilet was completed the fish, under Mr. Linton’s supervision, were in the pan, and she hurried to set out the breakfast things. They were just beginning breakfast when the sound of hoofs was heard and Billy rode into the clearing on his own pony, with evident signs of perturbation on his ebony face.
“What’s up, Billy?” Mr. Linton asked sharply.