Mary Grant Bruce

“ Norah scrambled out like a cat to its farthest extremity, and Harry followed her for part of the way. Wally and Jim settled themselves at intervals along the trunk. Sinkers, floats and baits were examined, and the business of the day began.
Everybody knows how it feels to fish. You throw in your hook with such blissful certainty that no fish can possibly resist the temptation you are dangling before its eyes. There is suppressed excitement all over you. You are all on the alert, feeling for imaginary nibbles, for bites that are not there. ”

“ She told him, clinging to him and sobbing; tugging at him all the time to make him come quickly. A strange enough tale it seemed to Mr. Linton—of hermits and hidden camps, and the Winfield murderer, and someone who needed help,—but there was that in Norah’s face and in her unfamiliar emotion that made him hurry through the scrub beside her, although he did not understand what he was to find, and was only conscious of immense relief to know that she herself was safe, after the moment of terror that her first cry had given him. ”

“ Norah never went anywhere without him; Tait saw to that. He seemed always on the watch for her coming, and she was never more than a few yards from the house before the big dog was silently brushing the grass by her side. His greatest joy was to follow her on long rides into the bush, putting up an occasional hare and scurrying after it in the futile way of collies, barking at the swallows overhead, and keeping pace with Bobs’ long, easy canter. ”

“ David Linton seldom made a plan that did not naturally include Norah. She was a wise little companion, too; ready enough to chatter like a magpie if her father were in the mood, but quick to note if he were not, and then quite content to be silently beside him, perhaps for hours. They understood each other perfectly. Norah never could make out the people who pitied her for having no friends of her own age. ”

“ He calculated feverishly the time it would take the little messenger to reach home if all went well; then how long it must be before a man could come out to him. At that thought he realised for the first time the difficulty Norah had seen in silence—who should come out to him? Black Billy must fetch the doctor and guide him to the sick man; but no one else save Norah herself knew the track to the little camp, hidden so cunningly in the scrub, at that rate it might be many hours before he knew if his child were safe. ”

“ A small brown paw slid itself into Mr. Linton’s hand.
They were sitting on the verandah in the stillness of an autumn evening, watching the shadows on the lawn become vague and indistinct, and finally merge into one haze of dusk. Mr. Linton had been silent for a long time. Norah always knew when her father wanted to talk. This evening she was content to be silent, too, leaning against his knee in her own friendly fashion as she curled up at his feet. ”

“ The Hermit’s hand was on her wrist like a vice. For a moment Norah shivered in fear of what her words might have done.
“What do you mean? For God’s sake, tell me?”
She steadied her voice to answer him bravely.
“Please, you mustn’t get excited, dear Mr. Hermit,” she said. “I’ll tell you. Dad told me all about it before we found you. It’s all a terrible mistake. Every one knows you were a good man. Everyone wants to be friends with you. Only they thought you were dead.” ”

“ The clown was a being almost too good for this world, seeing that his whole time was spent in making people laugh uproariously, and that he was so wonderfully unselfish in the way he allowed himself to be kicked and knocked about—always landing in positions so excruciatingly droll that you quite forgot to ask if he were hurt. All the ladies who galloped round the ring, and did such marvellous things, treating a mettled steed as though he were as motionless as a kitchen table, seemed to Norah models of beauty and grace. ”

“ The Hermit had taken Norah’s saddle and placed it on Bobs, girthing it up with the quick movements of a practised hand. Norah watched him keenly, and satisfaction crept into her eyes, as, the job done, the old man stroked the pony’s glossy neck, and Bobs, scenting a friend, put his nose into his hand.
“He likes you,” Norah said; “he doesn’t do that to everyone. Do you like horses?”
“Better than men,” said the Hermit. “You’ve a good pony, Miss Norah.” ”

“ A MENAGERIE RACE
The first time that Jim returned from school was for the Easter holidays.
He brought a couple of mates with him—boys from New South Wales and Queensland, Harry Trevor and Walter Meadows. Harry was a little older than Jim—a short, thick-set lad, very fair and solemn, with expressionless grey eyes, looking out beneath a shock of flaxen hair. Those who knew him not said that he was stupid. Those who knew him said that you couldn’t tell old Harry much that he didn’t know. Those who knew him very well said that you could depend on Trevor to his last gasp. ”

“ A cheeky jackass on a gum tree bough fairly roared with laughter, and Norah woke up with a violent start. The sunlight was streaming across her bed. For a moment she was puzzled, wondering where she was; then the walls of the tent caught her eye, and she laughed at herself, and then lay still in the very pleasure of the dewy morning and the wonderful freshness of the air. For there is a delight in awaking after a night in the open that the finest house in the world cannot give.
Presently the flap of the tent was parted and Mr. Linton peeped in. ”

“ The tamer’s spring aside was too late, He went down on his face, the lioness upon him.
Norah’s cry rang out over the circus, just as the lioness sprang—too late for the trainer, however. The girl was on her feet, clutching her father.
“Oh, Daddy—Daddy!” she said.
All was wildest confusion. Men were shouting, women screaming—two girls fainted, slipping down, motionless, unnoticed heaps, from their seats. Circus men yelled contradictory orders. Within the ring the lioness crouched over the fallen man, her angry eyes roving about the disordered tent. ”

“ No one was about the stables.
“Men all gone off somewhere,” said Jim laconically, proceeding to let his pony go. His example was followed by each of the others, the steeds dismissed with a rub and a pat, and the saddles placed on the stands.
“Well, I don’t know about you chaps,” said Jim, “but I’m as hungry as a hunter!”
“Same here,” chorused the chaps.
“Come along and see what good old Brownie’s put by for us,” said Norah, disappearing towards the house like a small comet.
The boys raced after her. In the kitchen doorway Mrs. Brown stood, her broad face resplendent with smiles. ”

“ The Hermit had been pretty constantly in Norah’s mind since the troopers had been scouring the district in their search for the Winfield murderer. She had longed intensely to warn him—scenting certain unpleasantness to him, and possible danger, although she was loyally firm in the belief that he could not be the man for whom they were searching. Still, how like the description was! Even though Norah’s faith was unshaken, she knew that the veriest hint of the Hermit’s existence would bring the troopers down on him as fast as they could travel to his camp. ”

“ In her heart of hearts Norah did not believe that mattered very much.
But when the stables had been visited and Bobs and Sirdar (Jim’s neglected pony) interviewed; when Tait and Puck had had their breakfast bones; when wallabies and kangaroo had been inspected (with a critical eye to their water tins) , and the turtle had impassively received a praiseworthy attempt to draw him out; when the chicks had all been fed, and the guinea pigs (unlike the leopard) had changed their spot for the day—there still remained the birds.
The birds were a colony in themselves. ”

“ Such was the gradual fate of the fishing party at Anglers’ Bend. At first the four floats were watched with an intensity of regard that should surely have had some effect in luring fishes to the surface; but as the minutes dragged by and not a fish seemed inclined even to nibble, the solemn silence which had brooded on the quartet was broken by sundry fidgetings and wrigglings and suppressed remarks on the variableness of fish and the slowness of fishing. Men enjoy the sport, because they can light their pipes and smoke in expectant ease ”

“ Norah said impatiently. “I suppose I’ll have a governess some day, and she won’t let me ride astride, or go after the cattle, or climb trees, or do anything worth doing, and everything will be perfectly hateful. It’s simply beastly to be getting old!”
“Cheer up, old party,” Jim laughed. “She might be quite a decent sort for all you know. As for riding astride, Dad’ll never let you ride any other way, so you can keep your mind easy about that. Well, never mind governesses, anyhow; you haven’t got one yet, and sufficient unto the day is the governess thereof. ”

“ Not that the boy minded—he picked himself up and raced the pony desperately round the ring—the girl standing and shrieking encouragement, the pony racing, the boy scudding in front, until he suddenly turned and bolted out of the ring, the pony following at his heels, but never quite catching him—so that the boy really won, after all, which Norah thought was quite as it should be.
Then there were the acrobats—accomplished men in tight clothes—who cut the most amazing somersaults, and seemed to regard no object as too great to be leaped over. ”

“ Norah asked blankly.
“Why, you each drive an animal,” explained Wally, the words tumbling over one another in his haste. “Say you drive the kangaroo, ’n me the wallabies, ’n Jim the Orpington rooster, ’n we’ll give old Harry the tortoise—turloise, I beg pardon!”
“Thanks,” said Harry dryly. “The tortoise scored once, you know, young Wally!”
“Well, old man, you take him,” Wally said kindly. “Wouldn’t stand in your way for a moment. We can use harness, can’t we?”
“Don’t know,” Jim said. “I never studied the rules of menagerie racing. Use bridles, anyhow. It’s a good idea, I think. ”

“ Brown,” Jim laughed. “You’re too good to us altogether. Eggs and bacon! Well, you are a brick! Cold tucker would have done splendidly for us.”
“Cold, indeed!—not if I know it—and you precious lambs off for such a ride, and going to be hot weather and all,” said the breathless Mrs. Brown indignantly. “Now, you just eat a good breakfast, Miss Norah, my love. I’ve doughnuts here, nearly done, nice and puffy and brown, just as you like them, so hurry up and don’t let your bacon get cold.” ”

“ Great fat bullocks lay about under the huge gum trees, scarcely raising their eyes to glance at the children as they passed; none were eating, all were chewing the cud in lazy contentment. They passed through a smaller paddock where superb sheep dotted the grass—real aristocrats these, accustomed to be handled and petted, and to live on the fat of the land—poor grass or rough country food they had never known. Jim and Norah visited some special favourites, and patted them. Harry and Wally admired at a distance. ”

“ As the water bursts from the dam the more violently because of its imprisonment, so Norah’s sneeze gained intensity and uproar from her efforts to repress it. It came—
“A—tish—oo—oo!”
The old man started violently. He dropped his damper and gazed round.
“What on earth’s that?” he said. “Who’s there?” For a moment Norah hesitated. Should she run for her life? But a second’s thought showed her no real reason why she should run. She was not in the least frightened, for it never occurred to Norah that anyone could wish to hurt her; and she had done nothing to make him angry. ”

“ The Hermit was lying on his bunk—a splendid old figure in his dress of soft furry skins, but with a certain helplessness about him that brought Norah’s heart into her mouth. As the flap of the tent lifted he turned his head with difficulty, and looked at the little girl with weary, burning eyes that held no light of recognition. ”

“ Anyhow, I have my mates, not only old Turpentine, my snake, but others—wallabies that have come to recognise me as harmless, for I never hunt anywhere near home, the laughing jackasses, two of them, that come and guffaw to me every morning, the pheasants that I watch capering and strutting on the logs hidden in the scrub. Even the plants become friends; there are creepers near my camp that I’ve watched from babyhood, and more than one big tree with which I’ve at least a nodding acquaintance! ”

“ No young ladies in blue dresses and brown curls—only wombats and wallabies, and ring-tailed ’possums—and me. Not you—me, but me—me! How do you account for being here?”
Norah laughed. She decided that she liked this very peculiar old man, whose eyes twinkled so brightly as he spoke.
“But I don’t think you know,” she said. “Quite a lot of other people come here—this is Anglers’ Bend. At least, Anglers’ Bend’s quite close to your camp. Why, only, to-day there’s Jim and the boys, and black Billy, and me! We’re not wallabies!” ”

“ Brown and the Melbourne trained nurse reigned supreme, and Dr. Anderson came and went as often as he could manage the fourteen-mile spin out from Cunjee in his motor.
Norah had a new care—a little fragile old lady, with snowy hair, and depths of infinite sadness in her eyes, whom Dick Stephenson called “mother.” The doctor would not allow either mother or son into the sick-room—the shock of recognition, should the Hermit regain consciousness suddenly, might be too much. So they waited about, agonisingly anxious, pitifully helpless. Dick rebelled against the idleness at length. ”

“ The sneeze was so unmistakably human, so unspeakably violent. There was one wild whirr of wings, and my ducks scrambled off the placid surface of the water like things possessed. I threw up my gun and fired wildly; there was no time for deliberate taking of aim, with the birds already half over the ti-tree at the other side.”
“Did you get any?” Jim asked.
“One duck,” said the Hermit sadly. “And even for him I had to swim; he obligingly chose a watery grave just to spite me, I believe. ”

“ Mick Shanahan said he’d never put a leg over a finer pony. Norah knew there never had been a finer anywhere. He was a big pony, very dark bay in colour, and “as handsome as paint,” and with the kindest disposition; full of life and “go,” but without the smallest particle of vice. It was an even question which loved the other best, Bobs or Norah. No one ever rode him except his little mistress. The pair were hard to beat—so the men said.
To Norah the stables were the heart of Billabong. ”