“A good ride to ye all,” he said, “an’ don’t be afther breakin’ your neck on thim ridges, Miss Norah. ’Tis the only neck like it on Billabong, an’ we can’t spare it, at all.”
“We’ll take care of her, Murty,” said her father.
“Bedad,” said Murty, “I have not forgotten that wan time ’twas y’rsilf did not take care of y’rsilf in that very same place! How am I to be thinkin’ anny of ye safe afther that misfortunate time?”
David Linton laughed.
“Ah, Monarch and I have learned sense now,” he said. “He won’t get rid of me in the same way again.”
“Divil a wan of me knows!” said Murty, darkly. “Well—that ye may come home wid whole bones, annyhow! Is it gettin’ up a search party we’ll be if ye’re not back this day week, sir?”
“Certainly not!” said the squatter. “If we find Brownie’s gold mine, there’s no prophesying when I shall get my party away from it!”
“Then ye’ll find hersilf an’ me joggin’ out in the old dray to meet ye,” Murty averred. He took his hand from Bosun’s bridle, and stepped back. Good-byes floated to the little group by the cottage as the riders cantered down the track.