Page 188 - A Little Bush Maid

had been forced to hold the old man down with unwilling force. But the
struggles soon brought their own result of helpless weakness, and the

Hermit subsided into restless unconsciousness, broken by feeble
mutterings, of which few coherent words could be caught. "Dick" was

frequently on the fevered lips. Once he smiled suddenly, and Mr. Linton,
bending down, heard a faint whisper of "Norah."

Sitting beside his old friend in the lonely silence of the bush, he studied the
ravages time and sorrow had wrought in the features be knew. Greatly

changed as Jim Stephenson was, his face lined and sunken, and his beard
long and white as snow, it was still, to David Linton, the friend of his
boyhood come back from the grave and from his burden of unmerited

disgrace. The frank blue eyes were as brave as ever; they met his with no
light of recognition, but with their clear gaze undimmed. A sob rose in the

strong man’s throat--if he could but see again that welcoming light!--hear
once more his name on his friend’s lips! Tf he were not too late!

The Hermit muttered and tossed on his narrow bed. The watcher’s thoughts
fled to the little messenger galloping over the long miles of lonely

country--his motherless girl, whom he had sent on a mission that might so
easily spell disaster. Horrible thoughts came into the father’s mind. He
pictured Bobs putting his hoof into a hidden crab-hole--falling--Norah lying

white and motionless, perhaps far from the track. That was not the only
danger. Bad characters were to be met with in the bush and the pony was

valuable enough to tempt a desperate man--such as the Winfield murderer,
who was roaming the district, nobody knew where. There was a score of
possible risks; to battle with them, a little maid of twelve, strong only in the

self-reliance bred of the bush. The father looked at the ghastly face before
him, and asked himself questions that tortured--Was it right to have let the

young life go to save the old one that seemed just flickering out? He put his
face in his hands and groaned.

How long the hours were! He calculated feverishly the time it would take
the little messenger to reach home if all went well; then how long it must be

before a man could come out to him. At that thought he realised for the first
time the difficulty Norah had seen in silence--who should come out to him?