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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"


Jim came up with Norah, and switched on her light. His eye travelled
round the pretty room.
"I don't know what part of home's HOMIEST," he said--"but I always
reckon your room runs pretty near it! Blest if I know what it will be
like when you're not here, little chap."
Norah rubbed her face against his coat sleeve.
"We don't talk of it," she said. "If we did, I'd--I'd be a horrid
coward, Jimmy--boy, and you wouldn't like me a bit!"
"Wouldn't I?" Jim said. "Well, I can't imagine you a coward, anyhow."
He bent and kissed her. "Good-night, old kiddie."
They set out in good time next morning, for the sun gave promise of a
scorching day.
Billy had the horses ready under the shade of a huge pepper-tree; even
there the flies were bad enough to set Monarch and Bobs fretting with
irritation, while the two stock horses lashed unceasingly with their
tails and stamped in the dust. Nan was a long, handsome brown mare,
with two white feet--an old friend of Wally's, who came and patted her
and let her rub her worried head against his coat. Cecil mounted Betty
and looked on sourly, while Jim walked round Monarch and admired the
big black.
"He ought to carry you like a bird, Dad."
"He does; a bit green yet, but he'll mend of that," his father
answered.


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