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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"

If he could spare Norah--!
Then they were in the gully, and he saw Bobs above him, and knew in
that instant that he could spare her nothing. The bay pony lay where he
had fallen, his head flung outwards; helplessness in every line of the
frame that had been a model of strength and beauty an hour ago. As Jim
looked Bobs beat his head three times against the ground, and then lay
still. The boy flung round, sick with horror.
"Why, you vile little wretch--you've killed him!"
He had Cecil in a grip of iron, shaking him as a dog shakes a rat--not
knowing what he did in the sick fury that possessed him. Then suddenly
he stopped and hurled him from him into the bracken. He ran down the
gully.
"Go back, Norah dear--don't come."
Norah and Wally had come cantering quickly round the shoulder of the
hill. She was laughing at something Wally had said as they rode into
the gully, and the laugh was still on her lips as she looked at Jim.
Then she saw his face, and it died away.
"What is it, Jim?"
"Don't come, kiddie," the boy said, wretchedly. "Wally, you take her
home."
"Why?" said Norah. "We saw Cecil--where's Bobs?" Her eyes were wandering
round the gully. They passed Cecil, lying on his face in the bracken,
and travelled further up the hill. Then she turned suddenly white, and
flung herself off Sirdar.


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