e neighbourhood. No, Eustace would not think of
that--one white man against a tribe of blacks: it was too terrible!
And yet supposing he had been, and no one found out!" Thoughts are
sometimes dreadfully uncontrollable things.

"I believe I will go for a ride," he said to himself. "I might just
go down to the creek--I won't cross it--but just as far as there,
to see if they are in sight. I can do that easily, and be in to
breakfast."

He found a man near the stables whom he got to saddle Bolter, then
off he started down the slope across the river, and away over the
uninteresting stretch of flatness till he again reached the river
bank. There he paused, staring towards the mangrove swamp with the
same chilled feeling he had experienced the day before. It was the
terrible dread that the depths of the woods might hold something
ghastly--Bob living, but in awful distress of mind or body; Bob
dead!

There were no signs of his father or Mr. Cochrane; no sounds but
those of nature. They certainly could not have found Bob at
Gairloch. The only alternative seemed the scrub.

Suddenly Eustace threw back his head, and in a shrill treble gave
vent to a prolonged Australian "coo-ee."

"If he is there," argued the boy, "of course he will answer. How
silly of me not to think of that before."

He could hardly believe his ears for joy, but there was instantly
an answer--so faint that he only caught a bit of it; still he heard
it.

In wild excitement he coo-eed again, his very loudest this time;
and again came the reply, scarcely more distinct, and more like a
cry than a coo-ee.

"It comes from the scrub," thought Eustace. "He must be there, but
awfully far off or ill, for that isn't like his voice. What shall I
do? I can't go back and fetch any one, because father said I was
not to tell. I daren't wait till father comes, for fear I lose it.
It might get fainter and fainter. Oh, I must do something when Bob
is calling out for help! If I could find him, if--if I could save
him, it would be splendid!"

Just once again he sent out his piercing coo-ee, and this time the
answer was distinct enough for him to decide its exact position.
Without another moment for reflection, he urged Bolter on, waded
through the river, and dashed helter-skelter towards the wood. He
thought nothing of the possibility of himself being lost, nothing
of the danger of meeting black-fellows. He was going to Bob--that
was the central idea. Bob was in dan