He knew of women who had lost their reason in solitudes, and had not wondered at it. The country was only fit for blacks, and even they shunned it, the few of them that were left after the white man's march. Had she come along with some squatter, when he had been making a visit to Bathurst, or Bourke, or even Sydney or Melbourne? That was a possible solution, but highly improbable. There was only one large station near enough to this place, from which she could have tramped. Its owner was Craig Bellshaw, of Mintaro Station, and he was not the sort of man to drive a woman away by ill-treatment, quite the contrary.
She stirred. He listened. She was muttering, but he could not catch the words. He got up and leaned over her.
CHAPTER III
A STRANGE SITUATION
He could make nothing of what she said. It was a jumble of incoherent sounds, with no meaning in them. He gathered no information as to how she came there.
"She's ill—delirious. What can I do for her?" he muttered.
He was a soft-hearted man, where women were concerned, and distress, although he had seen much of it, appealed to him. There were no doctors, not even in Boonara. When folks were ill in those parts they had to fight for life as best they could, with a few patent remedies to aid them.
"Fever," he said, "there's no doubt about it, and she has no strength to withstand it. I can't leave her alone. I wish to heaven Bigs, or someone, would come."
He sat by her all night; sometimes he had to hold her down, as she struggled like a bird in his strong grasp. He was very gentle with her. Not one man in a hundred would have credited him with such tenderness. When daylight sprang out suddenly, as it does in these climes, she became quieter. He put his hand on her breast, humming softly. The touch and the sound soothed her. With wonderful patience he remained in this position hour after hour, proving himself a great man, greater than he ever thought or reckoned himself to be. He was hungry, but he did not move. Ping came to the door and wondered why his wants were left unattended. It was unusual. He would have resented it had not the downpour brought up small shoots of green, with marvellous suddenness. He turned away and went nibbling the unaccustomed luxuries. Ping came to the door instinctively. Grass was a thing he had not seen for months. He didn't expect to find it, but as he sniffed its freshness he left the hut contentedly, and Leigh was glad.