I thought the doctor was in trouble!
There's allus blacks about; and it's on'y missus as is so scared about
'em. It's all right, sir. Where did you say you left the master?"

"By the third water-hole."

"By Bangoony," said the old man. "Day's trot, and the bullocks'll want
a three-hour rest half-way. They'll be here twelve o'clock to-night,
for master'll make it one day for the last. Don't you fret, missus; the
doctor knows what he's about. Blacks ain't lifers. He'll be here all
right. Come along, my bairn!"

This last was to the horse, which followed him toward one of the sheds;
and the dogs went after, one of them uttering a low growl as the man
gave the nag a sounding slap.

Samson stood still, and then turned to the dog. "Now then: none o'
that. It ain't your horse." The dog growled, and its companion joined
in. "Oh, that's it, is it? I say, Mr Dominic, sir, hadn't you better
interrajuice us? They say they don't know me, and I'm too useful to
your father to feed dogs."

"They won't bite," said Nic, going up, but walking very stiff and lame.

"That's what folks allus says," grumbled the old man; "but `dogs do bark
and bite, for 'tis their nature to.' Just you tell 'em to make
friends."

"Yes. Look here: friends! friends!" cried Nic. "Shake hands, Samson."

"Sure I will, sir," said the old man, grinning, as he rubbed a hard
blackened hand down one leg of his trousers. "That ain't dirt, sir.
I've been tarring some o' the sheep. On'y a bit sticky."

"I don't mind," cried the boy, holding out his hand, which was taken in
a firm grip, and proved to be more than a bit sticky, for it was held
tightly as the man stared hard at him.

"And the master to'd me, he did, as you was on'y a bit of a sickly slip
of a lad as he left in London or elsewhere when he come out here--a
poor, thin, weak, wankle sort o' gentleman, not what he is now."

Nic wanted to loose his hand and get back, but it was held fast, and the
old man went on:

"Why, you'll grow into a _big_, strong man, sir, bigger than the doctor.
Ay, I 'gaged with him arter he'd nussed me for my broken leg, as the
ship doctor down at Botany Bay said must come off. `Nay,' says your
father, and him all the time suff'rin' from a norful corf,--`nay,' he
says, `don't you have it took off, my man,' he says; and I says I
wouldn't, for o' course I didn't want to go about like a pegtop; and he
sets to and makes it right. This here's the leg, stronger