her.

"Kiddie--you're all right? He didn't hurt you?" The boy's voice was
shaking.

"Only my wrists," said Norah, and then began to shudder as the memory
of the struggle in the trees came back to her. Jim put his arm about
her.

"Thank heaven for that blessed Indian!" said he. "Steady, old
girl--you're all right," and Norah recovered herself.

"Yes, I'm all right, Jimmy," she said, a little shakily. "What about
Lal Chunder?"

"Here's the buggy," said Wally, and in a moment Murty and Boone were on
the scene, when it was the work of a few minutes to tie the prisoner
with halters and hoist him into the buggy, where he lay very
uncomfortable, with his head close to the splashboard. There was much
explanation, and it would probably have gone hard with the prisoner but
for Jim, as Murty and Boone wanted to deal out instant justice.

"Not good enough," Jim said. He was rather white, in the glow of the
buggy lamps. "He'll be better safe in gaol." He turned to Lal Chunder,
who had drawn close to Norah, and was contemplating his right hand,
which had been nearly shaken off by the four from Billabong. The
Hindu's English was not equal to his sense of friendship, and
conversation with him lacked fluency. It was some time before Jim could
make him understand that they wanted him to return to the station--and
indeed, it was Norah who made it clear at last.

"Me want you," she said, taking the dusky hand in hers. "Come back to
my home." She pointed towards the direction of Billabong. Lal Chunder
capitulated immediately.

"It is an order," he said, gravely; and forthwith climbed into the
buggy, a weird figure between the two stockmen, their faces still
flushed with anger as they looked at the man lying between their feet.

"We'll put him away in the lock-up, an' be out agin in no time, Masther
Jim," said Murty. "Take care of her me boy." And the stockman, who had
known Norah since her babyhood, choked suddenly as he looked at her
pale face. Norah was herself again, however, and she smiled at him
cheerily.

"I'm right as rain, Murty!" she said, in the Bush idiom. "Don't you
worry about me."

"'Tis pluck y' have," said the Irishman. He turned the buggy with some
difficulty, for the track was narrow, and they spun off on the return
journey to Cunjee, while Norah, between the two boys, was once more on
the way to Billabong.

"You're sure you're all right, Nor.?" Jim said, looking at her keenly.

"Yes--truly, Jim." Norah h