“I haven’t got any,” she said. “Anyhow, father doesn’t let us give away money to travellers—only tucker.”
“Oh, doesn’t he?” the fellow said unpleasantly. “Well, I want money, not grub.” He laid a compelling hand on Bobs’ bridle as Norah tried to pass him. “Come,” he said—“that bracelet’ll do!”
It was a pretty little gold watch set in a leather bangle—father’s birthday present, only a few weeks old. Norah simply laughed—she scarcely comprehended so amazing a thing as that this man should really intend to rob her.
“Get out of my way,” she said—“you can’t have that!”
“Can’t I!” He caught her wrist. “Give it quietly now, or I’ll—”
The sentence was not completed. A yellow streak hurled itself though the air, as Puck, who had been investigating a tussock for lizards, awoke to the situation. Something like a vice gripped the swagman by the leg, and he dropped Norah’s wrist and bridle and roared like any bull. The “something” hung on fiercely, silently, and the victim hopped and raved and begged for mercy.
Norah had ridden a little way on. She called softly to Puck.
“Here, boy!”
Puck did not relinquish his grip. He looked pleadingly at his little mistress across the swagman’s trouser-leg. Norah struck her saddle sharply with her whip.
“Here, sir!—drop it!”