It was evident that she
was not to have the benefit of Cecil's presence on the ride home; and
Norah could not help laughing again, although she was annoyed at the
whole occurrence. For all his airs, he was such a baby, this cousin of
hers.
"I'll tell Dad all about it," she reflected. "The he can say whether he
thinks Cecil can ride Bobs. Only I won't tell him he cleared out and
left me, 'cause there would be a row straight away." Thus pondering in
the Australian manner, she took the road home.
Jim's storm was coming up slowly, and though the sun had not yet set,
already it was growing dusk; and still it was very hot. She let Bobs
canter slowly, not wishing to appear to be hurrying after Cecil. Norah
never bore malice, but she had her pride! Often she glanced back over
her shoulder, hoping to see the boys. She knew they would not let the
grass grow under their horses' hoofs, once they were able to take the
road home. But the track lay bare behind her, and ahead Cecil had quite
disappeared. By the time she was five miles out of Cunjee she seemed
the only person in the whole landscape, and the only sound that met her
ear was the steady beat of the cantering hoofs, mingled with the creak
of the saddle leather.
The metalled road ended, and she struck into the bush track.
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