Page 109 - A Little Bush Maid

on the log, he was forced to step off with great decision into the water, a
movement accompanied with a decisive "Bust!" amidst wild mirth on the

part of the boys. Luckily, the water was not knee deep, and the black
retainer regained the log, not much the worse, except in temper.

"Damp in there, Billy?" queried Wally, with a grave face.

"Plenty!" growled Billy, marching off the log with offended dignity and a
dripping leg.

The Hermit had taken Norah’s saddle and placed it on Bobs, girthing it up
with the quick movements of a practised hand. Norah watched him keenly,

and satisfaction crept into her eyes, as, the job done, the old man stroked
the pony’s glossy neck, and Bobs, scenting a friend, put his nose into his

hand.

"He likes you," Norah said; "he doesn’t do that to everyone. Do you like

horses?"

"Better than men," said the Hermit. "You’ve a good pony, Miss Norah."

"Yes, he’s a beauty," the little girl said. "T’ve had him since he was a foal."

"He’ll carry you home well. Fifteen miles, is it?"

"About that, T think."

"And we’ll find Dad hanging over the home paddock gate, wondering
where we are," said Jim, coming up, leading his pony. "We’ll have to say

good-night, sir."

"Good-night, and good-bye," said the Hermit, holding out his hand. "T’m

sorry you’ve all got to go. Perhaps some other holidays--?"

"We’ll come out," nodded Jim. He shook hands warmly. "And if ever you
find your way in as far as our place-- "