“Who’s that? the runaway?” Dr. Lawrence asked, coming in. “Why, how are you, twins? did you actually ride in, on such a day! Well, I have to go out, to earn my living, but otherwise I would sit in a bath all day and drink iced things! Yes, the prisoner’s quite a young man. He was a bank clerk, and managed to get away with about £5,000, and he’s got a pretty long sentence to serve. He’ll get more when they catch him.”
“Perhaps they won’t get him,” Jean said.
“Oh, there’s very little chance of that. Nowadays an escaped criminal can be so easily tracked in the country; it’s all so opened-up, and the telegraph and telephone are everywhere. If ever people find out that you’re a criminal, Jean, and you want to escape, hide in a big city; don’t try a district like this, where every strange face is noticed.”
“I’ll remember,” Jean said, twinkling. “But couldn’t he get into the ranges, Doctor? It’s lonely and rough enough in the country back of our place.”
“But how would a man live? There’s mighty little game there, even if he dared carry a gun; and scarcely any houses. And criminals have such appetites, you know!”
Jean laughed.
“Yes, I suppose that would be the difficulty, unless he had friends,” she said.
“Oh, given friends, a man could hide in the ranges well enough, unless they brought the black-trackers up,” the doctor said. “Very few people know much about that part of the district; the only men who ever go there are odd station-hands, looking for lost cattle. Anyhow, this man comes from the other side of Melbourne, so he’s not likely to try the ranges. I’d give him, at the outside, two days’ run; then they’ll find him under a culvert or a haystack, or he’ll have sense enough to come in and give himself up.”
“Wouldn’t you just hate to do that!” Jo ejaculated. “It would make you feel so small!”
“Well, I don’t know. There’s a certain amount of dignity in it; more, anyway, than in being dragged by the heels from under a haystack. No one can look dignified with straws in his hair! Poor wretch, I expect he’s feeling sorry for himself now. Liberty must look pretty good to you when you see a sudden chance of escaping from a constable; but I’ll guarantee he doesn’t know what to do with his liberty now he’s got it. Rather like Dead Sea apples—rosy enough on the outside, but dust and ashes when you bite them. However, there’s lunch, and I’m glad I’m not an escaped gaol-bird, especially if it’s been in the ice-chest—come along, girls!”