"We're all immensely proud of you, Jim," Mrs. Anderson said. "And didn't my old man do well?"
"He did, indeed," Jim agreed heartily. "But I'm not a bit proud of myself—I think I was asleep most of the time, till old Wal., here, woke me up with a few well-chosen words. However, it's over now—and Norah, I want you to get along home."
"Aren't you coming?" Norah asked, a little blankly.
"We'll have to catch you up. I don't quite like the look of the weather; we're in for a storm, that's certain, and you may possibly escape it if you get away now. I can't start just yet; the Mulgoa fellows are insisting on 'shouting' for all hands, and we can't very well refuse; besides"—he dropped his voice—"you know what Boone is—I must see that he and Murty leave Cunjee. Cecil will look after you, won't you, Cecil?"
That gentleman assented without any pleasure. He did not feel impressed with the prospect of acting as escort to a small girl when he might have remained in Cunjee. Norah was quick to notice his manner.
"I needn't bother Cecil, Jim," she said, "I can quite easily ride on by myself."
"Indeed you won't," her brother responded. "Why, it'll be dark before long—let alone the state of the weather. You don't mind, Cecil, do you?"
Thus directly questioned, Cecil could do nothing but express his entire willingness.
"That's all right, then," Jim said. "Hurry on down to the hotel and get the saddles on, there's a good chap. Goodness knows whether you'll find any one there, but I fancy that pretty well the whole township is up at the match. You'll only escape that storm if you're lucky—don't lose a minute." He made his farewells to Mrs. Anderson, and turned to Norah again. "Better look after your own girth," he told her—"run after Cecil and lend him a hand if he wants it."
Cecil had already started; his slim, correctly attired figure was hastening along the dusty lane. He hated rain, and the hint of the coming storm had made him hurry when no other consideration would have done so. There was no one visible about the hotel yard, as he entered, and he called in vain; then, seeing no help for it, he entered the stables, where the Billabong horses occupied the stalls at one end. Bobs whinnied sharply as the door opened, and Cecil looked at the inquiring head; and then, sourly, towards Brown Betty, standing peacefully, half asleep, in her stall.