She pulled her bait up, and examination told her it was untouched. The fish were certainly shy, and another half-hour’s tempting did not bring them to the hook. It was exceedingly dull. Norah wound up her line slowly. She also had been thinking.
“I’m going for a walk, Daddy,” she said.
“All right, dear; don’t go far,” said her father absently.
Norah walked soberly along the log until she reached the creek bank, and then jumped ashore. She looked round at her father, but he was absorbed in his fishing and his thoughts, and so the little girl slipped away into the bush. She made her way among the trees quickly, keeping to the line of the creek. Presently she sat down on a moss-grown stump and thought deeply.
The Hermit had been pretty constantly in Norah’s mind since the troopers had been scouring the district in their search for the Winfield murderer. She had longed intensely to warn him—scenting certain unpleasantness to him, and possible danger, although she was loyally firm in the belief that he could not be the man for whom they were searching. Still, how like the description was! Even though Norah’s faith was unshaken, she knew that the veriest hint of the Hermit’s existence would bring the troopers down on him as fast as they could travel to his camp. She put aside resolutely the thoughts that flocked to her mind—the strange old man’s lonely life, his desire to hide himself from his fellow-men.
“I don’t understand it a bit,” she said aloud. “But I’ll have to tell him. He ought to know.”
With that she sprang up and ran on through the scrub. It was thick enough to puzzle many a traveller, but the little maid of the bush saw no difficulties in the way. It was quite clear to her, remembering how the Hermit had guided their merry party on the first visit, weeks ago. At the exact spot on the creek she struck off at right angles into the heart of the trees, keeping a sharp lookout for the tall old form that might appear at any moment—hoping that her father might not grow tired of fishing and coo-ee for her to return.
But there was silence in the bush, and no sign of the Hermit could be seen. The thought came to Norah that he might have struck camp, and gone farther back into the wild country, away from the men he dreaded. But she put the idea from her. Somehow she felt that he was there.
She came to the clump of dogwood that hid the old log along which lay the last part of the track to the Hermit’s camp and, climbing up, ran along it lightly. There were no recent footprints upon it. Suddenly the silence of the surroundings fell heavily on her heart.
Reaching the end of the log that gave access to the clearing, she took a hasty glance round. The ashes of the fire were long dead. No one was there.