in her prayers and
crossings and beads and all the rest of it as mother herself, and if
there ever was a good girl in the whole world she was one. She turned
faint as she said this, and I thought she was going to drop down. If
anything could have turned me then it would have been this. It was
almost like giving her life for ours, and I don't think she'd have
valued hers two straws if she could have saved us. There's a great
deal said about different kinds of love in this world, but I can't
help thinking that the love between brothers and sisters that have been
brought up together and have had very few other people to care about
is a higher, better sort than any other in the world. There's less
selfishness about it--no thought but for the other's good. If that
can be made safe, death and pain and poverty and misery are all little
things. And wasn't I fond of Aileen, in spite of all my hardness and
cross-grained obstinacy?--so fond that I was just going to hug her to me
and say, 'Take it all your own way, Ailie dear,' when Jim came tearing
out of the hut, bareheaded, and stood listening to a far-off sound that
caught all our ears at once. We made out the source of it too well--far
too well.

What was the noise at that hour of the night?

It was a hollow, faint, distant roaring that gradually kept getting
louder. It was the strange mournful bellowing that comes from a drove
of cattle forced along an unknown track. As we listened the sound came
clearly on the night wind, faint, yet still clearly coming nearer.

'Cattle being driven,' Jim cried out; 'and a big mob too. It's
father--for a note. Let's get our horses and meet him.'

Chapter 4

'All right,' said I, 'he must have got there a day before his time. It
is a big mob and no mistake. I wonder where they're taking them to.'
Aileen shrugged her shoulders and walked in to mother with a look of
misery and despair on her face such as I never saw there before.

She knew it was no use talking to me now. The idea of going out to meet
a large lot of unknown cattle had strongly excited us, as would have
been the case with every bush-bred lad. All sorts of wonders passed
through our minds as we walked down the creek bank, with our bridles in
our hands, towards where our horses usually fed. One was easy to catch,
the other with a little management was secured. In ten minutes we were
riding fast through the dark trees and fallen timber towards the wild
gullies and r