"Me want you," she said, taking the dusky hand in hers. "Come back to my home." She pointed towards the direction of Billabong. Lal Chunder capitulated immediately.
"It is an order," he said, gravely; and forthwith climbed into the buggy, a weird figure between the two stockmen, their faces still flushed with anger as they looked at the man lying between their feet.
"We'll put him away in the lock-up, an' be out agin in no time, Masther Jim," said Murty. "Take care of her me boy." And the stockman, who had known Norah since her babyhood, choked suddenly as he looked at her pale face. Norah was herself again, however, and she smiled at him cheerily.
"I'm right as rain, Murty!" she said, in the Bush idiom. "Don't you worry about me."
"'Tis pluck y' have," said the Irishman. He turned the buggy with some difficulty, for the track was narrow, and they spun off on the return journey to Cunjee, while Norah, between the two boys, was once more on the way to Billabong.
"You're sure you're all right, Nor.?" Jim said, looking at her keenly.
"Yes—truly, Jim." Norah had made up her mind not to say too much. There was nothing to be gained by harrowing them with unnecessary details—and, child-like, the memory of her terror was already fading, now that care and safety had again wrapped her about. "I was a bit scared, but that's all over."
"Then," said Jim, "can you tell me where is Cecil?" His voice was dangerously calm.
"Oh, he—he went on," Norah said. "We had a dispute, and he was a bit put out."
"A dispute? What about?"