m. After a while she grew
quiet, and was desperately ashamed.

"I didn't mean to make an ass of myself," she said, contritely. "I'm
awfully sorry, and you were such a brick to me, Jimmy. I won't ever
forget it; only I couldn't take your horse. I love you for it. But
Sirdar will do for me quite well." And no arguments could shake her
from that decision.

Jim put the light out after some time. Then he came back and sat down
on the bed.

"I wanted to tell you, dear little chap," he said, gently. "I sent Mick
out with Boone to-day, and--and they buried him under that big tree
where he fell, and heaped up stones so that nothing could get at him."
He stopped, his voice uncertain as Norah's hand tightened in his.

"Mick said there couldn't have been any hope for him, kiddie," he went
on, presently. "His back was broken; no one could have done anything."
He would not tell her of other things Mick had seen--the spur wounds
from hip to shoulder and the marks of the stick that Cecil had thrown
down beside the pony he had ridden to his death. "They carved his name
on the tree in great big letters. Some time--whenever you feel you
can--I'll take you out there. At least"--his hand gripped hers almost
painfully--"Dad and I will take you."

Norah put her face against him, not speaking. They stayed so, her
breath coming and going unevenly, while Jim stroked her shoulder.
Presently he slipped to his knees by the bed, one arm across her, not
moving until her head nestled closer, and he knew she was asleep. Then
the big, tired fellow put his own head down and went to sleep as he
knelt, waking, stiff and sore, in the grey half light that just
precedes the dawn. He crept away noiselessly, going out on the balcony
for a breath of the chill air.

Below him, against the stockyard fence, a black shadow stood and
whinnied faintly. Jim's heart came into his throat, and he swung
himself over the edge of the balcony, using his old "fire escape" to
slide to the gravel below. He ran wildly across to the yard.

A moment later the big bell of the station clanged out furiously.

Norah, fastening her habit with swift fingers, ran to open the door in
answer to Jim's voice.

"Hurry all you know, little chap," he said. "I'm off in a few
minutes--breakfast's ready. Wally's going into Cunjee with a telegram to
Melbourne for the black trackers, as hard as he can ride."

"Jim--there's something you know!"

He hesitated.

"I'd better tell you," he