hum he
was.

"Wait a moment, Mr. Ives. Don't have me trampled to death just yet."

"Miss Bethune!"

And the top rail was up again. But it was not her presence that
surprised him. It was her tone.

"A dreadful ending to our day, Mr. Ives!"

"I'm glad to hear you say that," cried the boy, with all his enthusiasm;
"to our day, if you like, but that's all! This is the most infernally
unjust and high-handed action that ever was taken by the police of any
country! Iniquitous--scandalous! But it won't hold water; these
squatters are no fools, and every beak in the district's a squatter;
they'll see Rigden through, and we'll have him back before any of the
hands know a word of what's up."

"But don't they know already?"

"Not they; trust us for that! Why, even Mrs. Duncan has no idea why he's
gone. But we shall have him back this time to-morrow, never you fear,
Miss Bethune!"

"How far is it to the police-barracks, Mr. Ives?"

"Well, it's fourteen miles to our boundary, and that's not quite
half-way."

"Then they won't be there before midnight. Is it the way we went this
morning, Mr. Ives?"

"Yes; he's going over the same ground, poor chap, in different company.
But he'll come galloping back to-morrow, you take my word for it!"

Ives leant with folded arms upon the restored rail. The animals already
turned out hugged the horse-yard fence wistfully. The lucky remnant were
licking the last grains of chaff from the bin. Moya drew nearer to the
rail.

"Mr. Ives!"

"Miss Bethune?"

"Would you do a favour for me?"

"Would I not!"

"And say nothing about it afterwards?"

"You try me."

"Then leave a horse that I can ride--and saddle--in the yard to-night!"

Ives was embarrassed.

"With pleasure," said he, with nothing of the sort--and began hedging in
the same breath. "But--but look here, I say, Miss Bethune! You're never
going all that way----"

"Of course I'm not, and if I do it won't be before morning, only first
thing then, before the horses are run up. And I don't want you, or
anybody, least of all my brother, to come with me, or have the least
idea where I've gone, or that I've gone anywhere at all. See? I'm
perfectly well able to take care of myself, Mr. Ives. Can I trust you?"

"Of course you can, but----"

"No advice--please--_dear_ Mr. Ives!"

It was Moya at her sweetest, with the moon all over her. She wondered at
the time how she forced that smile; but it gained her point.

"Very well,