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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"

He did not feel impressed
with the prospect of acting as escort to a small girl when he might
have remained in Cunjee. Norah was quick to notice his manner.
"I needn't bother Cecil, Jim," she said, "I can quite easily ride on by
myself."
"Indeed you won't," her brother responded. "Why, it'll be dark before
long--let alone the state of the weather. You don't mind, Cecil, do
you?"
Thus directly questioned, Cecil could do nothing but express his entire
willingness.
"That's all right, then," Jim said. "Hurry on down to the hotel and get
the saddles on, there's a good chap. Goodness knows whether you'll find
any one there, but I fancy that pretty well the whole township is up at
the match. You'll only escape that storm if you're lucky--don't lose a
minute." He made his farewells to Mrs. Anderson, and turned to Norah
again. "Better look after your own girth," he told her--"run after Cecil
and lend him a hand if he wants it."
Cecil had already started; his slim, correctly attired figure was
hastening along the dusty lane. He hated rain, and the hint of the
coming storm had made him hurry when no other consideration would have
done so. There was no one visible about the hotel yard, as he entered,
and he called in vain; then, seeing no help for it, he entered the
stables, where the Billabong horses occupied the stalls at one end.


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