sufficiently to feed during the night.

"Oh no, indeed you must not! I should be so horribly frightened lest
they should shoot you or the horse!" cried poor Nealie, who had
privately made up her mind that she could never let Rumple out of her
sight again, because he was always getting into pickles.

"I would let him go, Nealie. He may be able to track those men and save
the drovers hours of vain searching; then in return, perhaps, they will
help us right our wagon. And we shall want some help there; I can see
that plainly enough," said Rupert quietly. Then Nealie gave way at once,
as she mostly did when Rupert undertook to advise her, for he certainly
made up in wisdom what he lacked in bodily strength.

She struggled out of the wreckage of the wagon, and, having caught
Rockefeller, no difficult task, since she never went empty handed to the
work, she hoisted Rumple on to his back, then, slipping the hobbles, saw
the two slink off in the darkness by the way the men had gone.

CHAPTER XII

Repairing the Damage

When Rumple, perched on the back of Rockefeller, had crept quietly away
into the darkness, the three elders sat straining their ears into the
night for some sound that should let them know help was coming. Once or
twice they spoke to each other in whispers, but for the most part they
were quite silent. The two younger boys had drowsed off to sleep, while
Ducky lay in a profound slumber, her warm little body seeming in some
strange way to bring comfort and courage to Sylvia, in whose arms she
lay. An hour dragged away, and then, to the unspeakable joy and relief
of the watchers, a grey light stole over the hills, then broadened and
spread until it was full dawn. There was no crimson flush of sunrise
this morning, the sky was too heavy with clouds that had been blown up
from the south-east; but at least it was daylight, and the comfort of
being able to see what was going on made them all feel better.

The children woke up then, clamorous for breakfast. Only, as provisions
were so scanty it was necessary to have a little council of ways and
means straight away.

"We could make some porridge, for here is some corn-meal in a tin!"
cried Nealie, who had been industriously stirring among their overturned
goods and chattels since daylight came to brighten the prospect.

"But we have no wood for a fire, and we can't make porridge without a
fire," objected Sylvia.

"Ducky and the boys can get us some tw