command on
his part to make her go. She was growing pale and hollow-eyed with the
long watching.

Dr. Anderson, whose visits were becoming rarer, had prescribed a tonic,
which Norah had taken meekly, and without apparent results.

"The tonic she wants is her own old life," Brownie had said. "Stickin'
inside the house all day! it's no wonder she's peakin' and pinin'. Make
her go out, sir." So David Linton had asserted himself from his couch;
and Jim had taken Norah for a ride over the paddocks, and to call for
the mail at the Cross Roads, where the Billabong loose bag was left by
the coach three times a week.

He was lying with his eyes fixed on the track when they came out of the
trees; both horses at a hand gallop and pulling double. Norah was on
Garryowen, her face flushed and laughing, her head thrown back a little
as the beautiful bay reefed and plunged forward, enjoying the speed as
much as his rider. Jim was a length or so behind on Monarch, whose one
ambition at that moment was, in Murty's words, "to get away on him." It
was plain that the boy was exulting in the tussle. The sunlight gleamed
on the black horse's splendid side as they dashed up the track.

As yet there had been no talk openly of a successor to Bobs--that wound
was still too sore. For the present Norah was to ride Garryowen, since
Monarch was far too frivolous to stand a long spell; Jim would handle
him for the months that must elapse before his father was in the saddle
again. Later on, Jim and Mr. Linton had great plans for something very
special--a new pony that would not disgrace Bobs' memory, and that would
fit the unused rug with the scarlet B that lay locked away in Norah's
wardrobe. Other things were locked away in her heart; she never spoke
of Bobs. But the two who were her mates knew.

The swift hoofs came thudding up the track and scattered the gravel by
the gate; then there was silence for a moment, voices and laughter, and
quick footsteps, and Jim and Norah came in together, their faces
glowing.

"How did you get on, Dad? Were we long?"

"Long!" said David Linton, whose face had grown suddenly contented.
"The conceit of some people! Why, I had so much attention paid me that
I scarcely noticed you had gone." He put up one hand and took Norah's
as she sat on the arm of his couch. "But I'm glad you're back," he
added. They smiled at each other.

"Conceit's bad enough," said Jim, grinning, "but insanity's worse. Had
the maddest r