Page 185 - A Little Bush Maid

long and lonely ride. Before she had finished Billy was on the road to
Cunjee, flying for the doctor. Dick Stephenson, white-faced, broke in on

the story.

"How can T get out there?" he asked shortly.

"T’ll take you," Norah said.

"You!--that’s out of the question."

"No, it isn’t. T’m not tired," said Norah, quite unconscious of saying
anything but the truth. "T knew T’d have to, anyhow, because only Billy and

T know the way to the Hermit’s camp, and he has to fetch the doctor. You
tell Wright to get Banker for you, and put my saddle on Jim’s pony--and to

look well after Bobs. Hurry, while Brownie gets the other things!"

Dick Stephenson made no further protests, his brain awhirl as he raced to

the stables. Brownie protested certainly, but did her small maid’s bidding
the while. But it was a very troubled old face that looked long after the man

and the little girl, as they started on the long ride back to the camp.

Mile after mile they swung across the grey plain.

Norah did not try to talk. She disdained the idea that she was tired, but a

vague feeling told her that she must save all her energies to guide the way
back to the camp hidden in the scrub, where the Hermit lay raving, and her
father sat beside the lonely bed.

Neither was her companion talkative. He stared ahead, as if trying to pierce

with his eyes the line of timber that blurred across the landscape. Norah
was glad he did not bother her with questions. She had told him all she
knew, and now he was content to wait.

"Tt must be hard on him, all the same," thought Norah, looking at the set

young face, and sparing an instant to approve of the easy seat in the saddle
displayed by her new "governess." To believe that your father was dead all