“Oh, you little bricks!” Jean said. “That is a let-off—I was looking forward to a blazing walk down the paddock after the ponies. Bless you!” They drank their lemonade thankfully, and set off, while Mrs. Weston and the boys established themselves on the verandah, and the preparation of beans went on contentedly to the accompaniment of “Westward Ho!”
To be on a horse was always a tonic for either Jean or Jo. Even in the blaze of noonday they enjoyed the ride to Barrabri. It was a journey they always liked to make on horseback, since it was then possible to go across country for most of the way, cutting through the corner of the Emu Plains run, and then crossing a wide tract of rough country known as the Barrabri Common. There were gullies in the Common, up and down which it was necessary to scramble, following narrow cattle-tracks; and there were logs to jump, and, in ordinary seasons, watercourses, so that a gallop there presented something between a steeple-chase and an obstacle-race, and was tremendous fun. Now, alas! the watercourses were dry and the galloping ground, instead of being well-grassed, was bare, dusty earth; but still the Common was shady, and more interesting than the long, straight roads, where passing motors made conditions anything but pleasant for other folk.
They reached the township in good time, finding it wrapped in mid-day calm; and, having sent their telegram, made their way to the doctor’s house, where Eva and Maisie Lawrence greeted them with delight, mingled with amazement at their heroism in taking a long ride on such a hot day.
“But it’s always hot now,” Jo said; “so if we didn’t go out in heat we should never go out at all. And anyhow, I believe you’ve been playing tennis!” She glanced at the girl’s rubber-soled shoes.
“Well, we have, though we know it’s mad,” Maisie said, laughing. “Tom Holmes was over, and he never thinks it’s too hot to play, so he fairly dragged us out. He wouldn’t stay to lunch, though. He heard about this escaped prisoner, and he thought he’d do a bit of detective work.”
“But who is the escaped prisoner?”
“Oh, haven’t you heard? He was being moved from one gaol to another, and he gave the slip to the policeman who was in charge of him. I forget what he was; a burglar or something—nothing so thrilling as a murderer! He got away two stations up the line, and he’s supposed to have been seen making across country this way. A whole lot of policemen are after him.”
“Why, how exciting!” exclaimed Jo. “Poor wretch—I wonder if he’s got a wife and children?”
Eva Lawrence laughed.
“You are a funny old soul, Jo,” she said; “you always think of queer, sentimental things. All the more shame for him to be a criminal if he has got a wife and children. But I believe he’s quite a young man.”