Prev | Current Page 219 | Next

Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"

In the gloom Norah
could just make out a brutal-looking man, young, but with something in
his face that made her shudder. Her heart stood still for a moment,
after that first wild leap. Then she realized that he was asking her
for money, and she commanded her voice to answer.
"I haven't any."
It was true. When she rode with her father or brother it never occurred
to Norah to carry money, and she wore nothing of value at all to tempt
any thief. Her hunting-crop was silver mounted; she remembered it
suddenly, glad that it was dark and that the man would not be likely to
notice the gift that had been Jim's.
"I don't believe y'," he said.
"Well, you can, then," Norah answered. She was beginning to recover
herself, a little ashamed of that first moment of unreasoning terror.
If she had no money he would surely let her go. She scarcely knew the
meaning of fear--how should she, in the free, simple life that had
always been guarded, yet had left her only a little child in mind? "I
haven't so much as a penny," she went on. "Let go my bridle."
"What are y' doin' here alone?" The slow voice was crafty; something in
it brought back that stupid first fear. She pulled herself together.
"My people are coming--you'd better let go. If my brother gets hold of
you--"
"Oh, your brother's comin', is he?"
"Yes; let go my bridle.


Pages:
207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231