because
of his colour. Even in the dim light he was clearly visible across the
yard, and his absence would be noted at once, while possibly the darker
horse would not be so soon missed. He was fairly quiet as she unfastened
the reins, which were buckled round one of the rails in the fence. Then
she paused with them in her hand, and the desperateness of the venture
nearly overwhelmed her. The night seemed quite light to her now. The
outlines of the house were plainly marked against the sky, and all
the windows were brilliantly lighted up--evidently Lydia had promptly
carried out her intentions. Then a child's cry, loud and shrill, broke
on the air, and Bessie started. Woa, good horse, go softly now, for life
and death hang on the next few moments. The beating of her own heart
nearly choked her--her own light footsteps sounded in her ears like the
march of a hundred men, and every moment she expected one of those
long windows to open and the bushrangers to come rushing out, for not a
regiment of cavalry, it seemed to her, could have made more noise than
that solitary horse moving quietly behind her. She kept on the grass
as much as possible, but it seemed an age before she had reached the
slip-panels. They were down as the bushrangers had left them, and she
looked back. No, it was impossible to distinguish anything in the
yard. The horses even were one blurred mass; unless they inspected
them closely her theft could not be detected. It was so still and so
dark--never in her life had she been out at night alone before. The
noises frightened her, and the silence was still more terrifying. The
cry of the curlews was like a child in pain, and the deep, loud croak of
a bullfrog from a water-hole close at hand seemed ominous of disaster.
She shrank up close beside the dumb animal for companionship and gave
another frightened glance back. Then she pulled herself together--this
would never do. For Tom's sake, for Lydia's sake, for the children's
sake, but most of all for Tom's sake, she must be brave and cool. If she
would save them she must not give way to such vague imaginings. Surely
she might venture to mount now. She led the horse up to one of the
numerous logs that lay strewn about the paddock, and flinging the
off-stirrup to the near side to form a rest for her right foot, she
climbed on the log and prepared to mount. Often and often she had ridden
so--a man's saddle presented no difficulties; but now to her dismay
the hor