g
back into the room. "If you keep still, you can almost swear you can
hear old Monarch's hoofs coming up the track--and half a dozen times
I've been certain I caught the crack of his stockwhip. Of course,
it's--it's all imagination. My word! it's hard to loaf about here and go
to bed comfortably when you want to be hunting out there."

"You couldn't do any good, though?" asked Wally.

"No--it would be madness to go straying round those gullies in the
moonlight; it's not even full moon, and there the timber's so thick
that very little light can get through. There's nothing for it but to
wait until daylight."

"It's hard waiting," Norah said.

"Yes, it is. But you ought to go to bed, old woman; you had precious
little sleep last night, and the big bell is to ring at daylight."

"Then won't you boys go, too?"

"Yes, I guess we'd better," Jim said. "I'll come in and say good-night
to you, Norah." A look passed between them; the boy knew his father
never failed to pay a good-night visit to Norah's room. She smiled at
him gratefully.

It was very lonely and quiet up there, undressing, with her heart like
lead within her. She hurried over her preparations, so that she might
not keep Jim waiting when he came; she knew he needed sleep--"a big boy
outgrowing his strength like that," thought Norah, with the quaint
little touch of motherliness that she always felt towards Jim. Once she
caught sight of something on the end of the couch; the white rug that
had been Jim's Christmas present, with the scarlet B standing out
sharply in the corner--the rug Bobs would never use. Shivering a little,
she put it away in her wardrobe. Just now she could only think of that
most dear one--perhaps lying out there in the cold shadows of the bush
night. She crept into bed.

Jim came in in his shirt sleeves.

"Comfy, little chap?"

"Yes, thanks, old man. Jim--shall I ride Sirdar tomorrow?"

"You needn't have asked," the boy said--"he's yours. And, Norah--I know
Dad wouldn't mind. I'd like you to have Garryowen. He's a bit big, but
he'll suit you quite well. I know he won't make up, but you'd get fond
of him in time, dear."

"Jim!" she said--knowing all that the carelessly spoken words
meant--"Jimmy, boy." And then Jim was frightened, for Norah, who had not
cried at all, broke into a passion of crying. He held her tightly,
stroking her, not knowing what to say; murmuring broken, awkward words
of affection, while she sobbed against hi