Page 178 - A Little Bush Maid

Norah cast a despairing glance around. An empty billy by the old man told
its own tale, and a hurried search in the camp only revealed empty vessels.

"T’ll be back in a minute," said Norah, sobbing.

Afterwards she could not remember how she had got down to the creek.
Her blouse was torn, and there were long scratches on her wrists, and she

was panting, as she came back to the sick man, and, struggling to raise his
heavy head, held a cup to his lips. He drank fiercely, desperately, as Norah

had seen starving cattle drink when released after a long journey in the
trucks. Again and again he drank--until Norah grew afraid and begged him
to lie down. He obeyed her meekly and smiled a little, but there was no

comprehension in the fevered eyes. She put her hand on his forehead and
started at its burning heat.

"Oh, what’ll T do with you!" she said in her perplexity.

"Do?" said the Hermit with startling suddenness. "But T’m dead!" He closed
his eyes and lay very still. "Dead--ages ago!" He muttered. A second he lay

so, and then he turned and looked at her. "Where’s the child?" he asked. "T
must go to him; let me go, T tell you!" He tried to rise, but fell back weakly.
"Water!" he begged.

She gave him water again, and then bathed his face and hands, using her

handkerchief for a sponge. He grew quieter, and once or twice Norah
thought he seemed to know her; but at the end he closed his eyes and lay
motionless.

"T’ll be back very soon," she said. "Do please be still, dear Mr. Hermit!" She

bent over him and kissed his forehead, and he stirred and murmured a name
she could not catch. Then he relapsed into unconsciousness, and Norah
turned and ran wildly into the scrub.

To bring Daddy--Daddy, who knew everything, who always understood!

There was no other thought in her mind now. Whatever the Hermit might
have done, he needed help now most sorely--and Daddy was the only one