"We'll raise the whole country when we get home," Macleod answered savagely. "I only hope the boss will let us go out with our guns, and not wait for the police. But our job is to warn the out stations, and then to get the news to the boss." He wheeled round, and suddenly took off his hat. "Here they are."
The cart came by, its pitiful burden covered with the dead men's blankets; old Harry, tight-lipped, driving, and the white-faced boys following. Downes made two efforts to speak before his voice would come.
"That's all right, Mac," he said. "Get to the huts and home as quick as ever you can. Keep close together, mind, while you're in the timber, and go like smoke!"
Stephens had gone off at a hand gallop already. Macleod nodded, and he and Dick gave their horses their heads, taking the track through the trees where the cart wheels had left their print on the soft grass. They were out of sight in a moment, galloping side by side, with keen eyes searching through the timber on either hand. Once Dick fancied that he saw a shadowy black form, and it was easy enough to think he heard, above the pounding hoofs, the whistle of a spear; but the moment passed and they were racing onward, only checking their speed when they came to another lonely hut. A few words, and they were off again, leaving the amazed and infuriated men to look to their guns and muster their cattle out of harm's way. Another hut, and another; and then, their work half done, they turned their horses towards home. The trees were left behind them now, and they came out upon the wide plain where scattered clumps of timber, easy to dodge in their gallop, gave shade to the lazy bullocks.
"We can get a move on now!" Macleod said, between his teeth. "And every minute we save means more chance of catching those fiends!"
They leaned forward in their saddles to ease the horses, and urged them to racing speed. Mile after mile, trees flashing by them, cattle lumbering, affrighted, out of their way, with no word between them, and only the dull thud of the hoofs to break the silence. Not until they reached the gate of the paddock near the homestead did they draw rein. Macleod, leaning across his horse's dripping neck to open it, glanced at Dick.
"Tired?" he asked. "You've had nothing to eat, poor kid."
"I'm not tired," Dick said; "and I feel as if I never wanted to eat again."
"Same here!" Macleod nodded. "But it isn't sense. We'll have to get something at the house. No use in cracking up just when we're wanted."
They were galloping again, across the last stretch of grass. Suddenly Agility faltered in his stride and half pulled up, limping heavily. Dick was off in a flash.