"I'd better tell you," he said. "Monarch's come home alone, Norah!"
CHAPTER XIX
THE LONG QUEST
The creek went down with a broken song,
'Neath the she oaks high;
The waters carried the song along,
And the oaks a sigh.
HENRY LAWSON.
The big black thoroughbred still stood by the rails as they rode away. He had got rid of the saddle, and the broken bridle trailed from his head. No one had time to see to him.
Billabong was humming with activity. Men were running down to the yards, bridle in hand; others leading their horses up to be saddled; while those who were ready had raced over to the quarters for a snatched breakfast. Sirdar and the boys' horses had been stabled all night, so that they were quickly saddled. Jim was riding Nan; Wally, on Garryowen, was already a speck in the distance.
"You'll be quicker if you take him," Jim had said. Then he and Norah had cantered away together.
"Monarch wasn't hurt, Jim?"
"He'd been down, I think," Jim said; "His knees look like it. But he's all right—why, he must have jumped three fences?"