Norah had put her head down on the arm of the big chair, and was fast
asleep.
CHAPTER XX
MATES
The sleepy river murmurs low,
And far away one dimly sees,
Beyond the stretch of forest trees,
Beyond the foothills dusk and dun,
The ranges sleeping in the sun.
A. B. PATERSON.
Autumn was late that year at Billabong, and the orchard trees were
still green, though a yellow leaf showed here and there in the Virginia
creeper, as David Linton lay on the verandah and looked out over the
garden. From his couch he could see the paddock beyond, and here and
there the roan hides of some of his Shorthorns. They did not generally
graze there; but Jim had brought some into the paddock the day before,
remarking that he was certain his father would recover much more
quickly if he could see a bullock now and then. So they grazed, and lay
about in the yellow grass, and David Linton watched them contentedly.
From time to time Mrs. Brown's comfortable face peeped out from door or
window, with an inquiry as to her master's needs; but he was not an
exacting patient, and usually met her with a smile and "Nothing,
Brownie, thanks--don't trouble about me." Lee Wing came along,
shouldering a great coil of rubber hose like an immense grey snake, and
stopped for a cheerful conversation in his picturesque English; and
Billy, arriving from some remote corner of the run, left his horse at
the gate and came up to the verandah, standing a black statue in shirt,
moleskins and leggings, his stockwhip over his arm, while Mr.
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