“I've been huntin' ye's everywhere,” he panted. “There's a man just kem out from Cunjee lookin' for ye, sir—some one's tallyphoned in that there's a big grass fire comin' down on the Creek, an' 'twill be a miracle if it misses Billabong! I've told the men—they're off to get the horses.”
Norah and Tommy had turned, with dismayed eyes.
“Will it be at our place, Murty?” Tommy asked.
“I dunno will it, Miss Tommy,” the Irishman answered. “But as like as not 'twill miss it—or anyhow, we'll get there first, an' stop it doing much damage. Don't you worry your little head, now.”
She looked up at him gratefully. Norah's hand was thrust through her arm.
“It may not be near the Creek at all, Tommy dear,” she said.
“Oh, I hope it isn't—my poor old Bob!” Tommy said, under her breath. “Can we hurry, Norah?”
“They're bringing the horses,” Norah answered. “We'll be off in a minute—see, dad has gone to meet Bob.”
Wally had turned to Murty.
“Murty, do you mind if I ride Shannon and take him across country? I'm on Marshal to-day, you know, and he can't jump for nuts. But Shannon can take every fence between here and the Creek, and I can cut the distance in half if I go across. I'm about the lightest of us, I think.”