Keep Tait with
you, Norah."
"All right," Norah nodded. "What about coo-eeing, Jim? He might hear a
shout and answer it, even if he couldn't see us."
"Yes, but you can't keep coo-eeing all the time," said Jim,
practically. "I'll tell you what--sing or whistle. You can do that
easily, and it doesn't tire you. And of course, if you find him, fire
the revolver--you're sure you've got it carefully?"
"Yes, it's all right," Norah replied, showing the revolver in its neat
leather case. Jim and her father had taught her its use long ago, and
she understood it quite well. Mr. Linton held the view that all women
in the bush should know how to handle fire arms, since the bush is a
place where no one ever knows exactly what may turn up, from burglars
to tiger snakes. "Fire three times in the air, isn't it, Jim?"
"Yes, that's right. Go on then, kiddie, and do take care!" Jim's voice
was strained with anxiety and wretchedness. While Norah was full of
hope, and, indeed, could scarcely realize that they might not find Dad
soon, the boy had the memory of the fruitless search all the previous
day to dispirit him. As he looked at the forbidding wall of green
scrub, his feeling was almost one of despair.
It did not take long for Norah to realize the difficulty of their task.
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