“So you see,” Ruby goes on with the air of a small queen, “you’re not to say things like that ever again. And I’ll tell dad you’re not to work so hard; dad always does what I want him to do—usually.”
The old man looks after the two retreating figures as they ride away.
“She’s a dear little lady, she is,” he mutters to himself. “But she can’t be expected to understand, God bless her! how the longing comes for the home-land when one is weary. Good Lord, let it not be long.” The old man’s tired eyes are uplifted to the wide expanse of blue, beyond which, to his longing vision, lies the home-land for which he yearns. Then, wiping his axe upon his shirt-sleeve, old Hans begins his “ringing” again.
“He’s a queer old boy,” Dick remarks as they ride through the sunshine. Though a servant, and obliged to ride behind, Dick sees no reason why he should be excluded from conversation. Nor does Ruby. She would have found those rides over the rough bush roads very dull work had there been no Dick to talk to.
“He’s a nice old man!” Ruby exclaims staunchly. “He’s just tired, or he wouldn’t have said that,” she goes on. She has an idea that Dick is rather inclined to laugh at German Hans.
They are riding along now by the river’s bank, where the white clouds floating across the azure sky, and the tall grasses by the margin are reflected in its cool depths. About a mile or so farther on, at the turn of the river, a ruined mill stands, while, far as eye can reach on every hand, stretch unending miles of bush. Dick’s eyes have been fixed on the mill; but now they wander to Ruby.
“We’d better turn ’fore we get there, Miss Ruby,” he recommends, indicating the tumbledown building with the willowy switch he has been whittling as they come along. “That’s the place your pa don’t like you for to pass—old Davis, you know. Your pa’s been down on him lately for stealing sheep.”
“I’m sure dad won’t mind,” cries Ruby, with a little toss of the head. “And I want to go,” she adds, looking round at Dick, her bright face flushed with exercise, and her brown hair flying behind her like a veritable little Amazon.
That settles the question. Dick knows by sore experience that when this little lady wants her own way she usually gets it.
“Your pa said,” he mutters; but it is all of no avail, and they continue their course by the river bank.