Page 186 - A Little Bush Maid

these years, and then suddenly to find him alive--but how far apart in every
way! "Why, you hardly know," mused Norah, "whether you’ll like

him--whether he’ll be glad to see you! Not that anyone could fail to like the
Hermit--anyone with sense, that is!"

Mile after mile! The plain slipped away beneath the even beat of the
steadily cantering hoofs. The creek, forded slowly, sank into the distance

behind them; before, the line of timber grew darker and more definite. Jim’s
pony was not far inferior to Bobs in pace and easiness, and his swinging

canter required no effort to sit, but a great weariness began to steal over his
rider. Dick Stephenson, glancing at her frequently, saw the pallor creeping
upon the brave little face.

He pulled up.

"We’ll go steady for a while," he said. "No good knocking you up
altogether."

Norah checked her pony unwillingly.

"Oh, don’t you think we ought to hurry?" she said. "Dad’s waiting for those
medicines you’ve got, you know."

"Yes, T know. But T don’t think we’ll gain much by overdoing it."

"Tf you’re thinking about me," Norah said impatiently, "you needn’t. T’m as
right as rain. You must think T’m pretty soft! Do come on!"

He looked at her steadily. Dark shadows of weariness lay under the brave

eyes that met his.

"Why, no," he said. "Fact is, T’m a bit of a new chum myself where riding’s

concerned--you mustn’t be too ashamed of me. T think we’d better walk for
a while. And you take this."