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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"

Brown. "There you are,
dearie, an' there's your 'unting-crop. Off you go!" and Norah ran
downstairs, finding Jim and Wally waiting, boots and leggings on. They
set off, Murty muttering dark threats against Cecil as he shut the gate
of the stable yard after them.
Wally had recovered his cheerfulness, never long absent from him, and
was, besides, not unpleasantly excited at the thought of war ahead. He
chattered gaily as they rode through the first two paddocks. But Jim
remained quiet. As Norah said, she had never seen him so angry. Anxiety
in his mind warred with hot anger against the insult to Norah and to
them all. He swept the bush paddock with his eye as they came up to it,
seeing nothing but the scattered bullocks here and there.
"Wonder which way he'd go," he said. "Suppose you and Wally cut over to
the right, Norah, and see if you can find any trace. I'll go over this
way. We'll coo-ee to each other if we come across him." They separated,
and Jim put Garryowen at a canter across the plain. Here and there he
could see a track--and something made him wish to go on alone.
He was nearly at the foot of the hills when a figure came out from
their shadow. Jim gave a sudden little sound in his throat as he saw
that it was Cecil--and alone. He was limping a little, and had evidently
been down.


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