“Any news of Paul yet?” asked Harry, as they arrived at home.
“Not a word,” said his father; “if he does not appear to-morrow I intend to ride out and try to discover him.”
Hector, meanwhile, was bitterly complaining to his mother of the sufferings he had endured. “I wish that you’d let me go back to England, or try and get me some gentlemanly post in Sydney or Melbourne,” he said.
“I will ask your father,” was the answer.
The captain, to whom Mr Berrington communicated his son’s request, laughed heartily. “I am sorry for the poor boy. He would find that he had dropped out of the frying-pan into the fire. If he cannot find occupation in the bush, depend upon it he will not in the city. People there do not want fine young gentlemen any more than they do here. Do not let him go, as you will only be throwing your money away, but have patience with him, and by degrees he will get accustomed to our ways, and prove useful at last.”
Mr Berrington told his son “that he would think about the matter,” and Hector used to talk to his cousins of the Government appointment he expected soon to obtain.
The heat had been very great. Not a cloud was in the sky, and not a breath of wind fanned the topmost boughs of the tallest trees. Captain Berrington had determined on starting to discover what had become of Paul. Rob and Edgar were awake before daylight. The whole family intended to be up to see the captain off. The window was left open on account of the heat. Presently, from the wood close at hand, there came forth a wild shriek of merry laughter, which made Hector start up.
“Where in the world did that come from?” he exclaimed.
Rob pointed to the wood.
“What can it be?” asked Hector.