“We go now, we go now!” he cried.
Biddy and Betty clung to the hinder part of the dray, struggling in vain to get in.
“Off with you,” exclaimed Harry; “we will follow on foot.”
Bendigo cracked his whip, and his horses dashed forward at such a rate that it was a wonder the dray did not immediately capsize. Harry watched it anxiously as it went down a dip from which there was a gentle rise. Already a stream of water was running through the hollow, but it looked a mere rivulet, not half a foot deep, which could be passed over with a good spring.
“It is a pity we should not get a few more goods,” said Harry; “although I don’t believe the water will reach the house: yet, if it does, everything will be spoiled, if not washed away.”
They hurried through the rooms, picking up whatever they thought most valuable. Even Hector was inspired with a desire to save something, especially several articles belonging to himself. Harry had taken a run into the kitchen, where he discovered some dampers, which Biddy in her alarm had forgotten to remove from the ashes.
“It is a pity to lose these,” said Harry, clapping them into the pockets of his jacket—good capacious ones, as every bushman’s should be. There was, besides, a pot of yams, by this time completely cooked.
“Here, Reggy, stow some of these away,” he cried out. “The chances are that we shall not have too much to eat on the top of the hill there, unless Biddy has been more thoughtful than she appears to have been when she left these. What she could have been about I don’t know!”
So busily were they engaged that they did not hear the increased roar of the waters.
“Come, you fellows, it’s time to be off, I’m sure,” cried Hector, who had been feeling very nervous all the time.