Jim knew if he moved the dog would probably fly at his throat. It would be hours before Leigh returned, and he must remain in this position the whole time, on her account. Had he been alone he could have cowed Spotty, or attempted it. He heard distant thunder. There was another storm brewing, the promise of more welcome rain. The lightning flashed through the hut, playing in and out at the doors. The crashing sounds came nearer; then the rain burst in torrents.
Spotty did not move. He remained with his eyes on Jim, not even giving a glance at the figure on the bed. The woman slept through it all. Jim wondered at her strange stillness. Was she dead?
The thought made him start. He had not put his hand on her again after he kissed her, and could not feel or hear her breath. Spotty saw him move, and growled. He seemed about to spring, then crouched again.
It was a strange situation—the man, the woman, and the dog, in the hut, the storm raging outside, and Glen Leigh riding on his mission to Boonara.
CHAPTER IV
"IT'S FOR A WOMAN"
"Hello, what brings you here?" said Bill Bigs, as Glen Leigh entered his house. The tone was not encouraging. Bill was in an ill-humour, and it was not difficult to discover the cause. The bar was in a state of wild confusion. Broken bottles, bits of wood, splinters from the rough furniture, and jagged pieces of glass lay about. There was every sign of a fight.
Glen took it all in at a glance. Although he was in a desperate hurry he knew the best way to succeed would be by humouring him.
"Bit of a skirmish, eh?" began Glen.