"Hold him—yes—tight," said Lal Chunder, tightening his grip as he spoke, to the manifest discomfort of the man against the tree. Then came distant voices, and a snatch of a School song, mingled with quick hoofs; and Norah caught her breath in the sharpness of the relief. She rode out on the track, calling to Jim.
The boys pulled up, the horses plunging.
"Norah! What on earth—"
Norah explained rapidly, and Jim flung himself off, tossing Garryowen's rein to Wally, and ran to her.
"Kiddie—you're all right? He didn't hurt you?" The boy's voice was shaking.
"Only my wrists," said Norah, and then began to shudder as the memory of the struggle in the trees came back to her. Jim put his arm about her.
"Thank heaven for that blessed Indian!" said he. "Steady, old girl—you're all right," and Norah recovered herself.
"Yes, I'm all right, Jimmy," she said, a little shakily. "What about Lal Chunder?"
"Here's the buggy," said Wally, and in a moment Murty and Boone were on the scene, when it was the work of a few minutes to tie the prisoner with halters and hoist him into the buggy, where he lay very uncomfortable, with his head close to the splashboard. There was much explanation, and it would probably have gone hard with the prisoner but for Jim, as Murty and Boone wanted to deal out instant justice.
"Not good enough," Jim said. He was rather white, in the glow of the buggy lamps. "He'll be better safe in gaol." He turned to Lal Chunder, who had drawn close to Norah, and was contemplating his right hand, which had been nearly shaken off by the four from Billabong. The Hindu's English was not equal to his sense of friendship, and conversation with him lacked fluency. It was some time before Jim could make him understand that they wanted him to return to the station—and indeed, it was Norah who made it clear at last.