“That won’t keep me busy,” Norah retorted. But she did as she was told, and they sat peacefully under a big weeping willow until Mrs. Evans summoned them to dinner.
After lunch there was nothing to be done at the homestead. Mr. Linton had gone to Cunjee in Dr. Anderson’s motor to transact much business and talk on the telephone to Melbourne insurance people and building contractors. Wally appeared about three o’clock, hot and dusty, and reported the condition of the township.
“Every one’s talking fire,” he said. “The police and half the men are out after Harvey. I’ve never seen Cunjee so excited—it seems quite appropriate that they’ve still got the Christmas decorations in the streets! They’re considerably withered, of course, but it seems to indicate that something’s in the air. I guess Harvey will have a lively time when they catch him.”
“Wish I could be in at the death,” said Jim, grimly. His father’s wish had kept him from joining the pursuit, but he had stayed unwillingly.
“Yes, it wouldn’t be bad fun, would it? Wonder is they haven’t got him already. He must be pretty well planted,” Wally said. “He’s certainly the man you’ve got to thank: if he’d a clear conscience he’d be in Cunjee now, instead of nobody knows where. Whew—w, it is hot! Come and have a swim, Jim.”
“No swim for you yet awhile,” Jim told him, grimly. “You’ve got to come and fix camp.”
“Me?” asked Wally, blankly. “Of all the unsympathetic, slave-driving wretches——”
“Yes, that’s so,” grinned his chum. “All the same, you’ve got to come.”
“I felt there was something in the wind,” said Wally, lugubriously. “I left you as beautiful as a tailor’s block, and looking very like one, only woodener, in your best suit; and I find you in dungarees and a shirt, and hideously happy. It isn’t fair, and me so hot. Isn’t he a brute, Norah?”
“Not this time,” laughed Norah. “You see, it’s our tent you’ve got to fix. Go on, and we’ll get a billy from Mrs. Evans and brew afternoon tea for you down by the lagoon.”