First in the Field Part 63

Then, as he took the knife, he examined it as if in doubt, hesitating about turning it over, and then handing it back, saying firmly, "No."

"That's a lie," thought the man, as he retook the knife, "and my lord here is trying to keep the lair hidden. He knows."

But the knife had no crosses filed in the handle, and Nic was breathing freely, when he noticed that the black was pointing to something else--a faintly marked footprint, evidently made by a coa.r.s.ely made sandal or shoe. Beyond this was another, and again beyond another.

"That's right--go on!" rang in his ears, and the next moment the party was again in motion, with the blacks bending low, and from walking beginning to trot, while the policeman pressed his horse closer to Nic's.

"Easy trail to follow, sir," he said. "Now, then, don't you think you'd better save us further trouble by taking us straight across country to your man's form?"

"I told you I did not know where he was hiding," said Nic shortly.

"You did, sir, but I thought I'd save trouble. These birds are a bit desperate when run down, and I'm sure you wouldn't like to see him shot when he refuses to surrender. Now, would you?"

"No," said Nic, rather faintly.

"Out with it then, and we'll take him by surprise--surround him after dusk. Then it will mean a flogging or two, and another year in the gang, and perhaps a fresh chance. Better than being buried, sir, in the bush."

Nic remained silent, but with his brow contracted.

"Very well, sir, but you see. Why, I can trace that track as I ride.

We could find him now without the blacks."

Still Nic held his peace, and rode on beside the man, as mile after mile was traced, leading, to the boy's surprise, toward the Bluff, but curving off a mile from home, as if to go round it to reach the other side.

And so it proved, the blacks trotting on till they did pa.s.s the house half a mile away; and Nic jumped to the conclusion that the poor fellow had made for the fern gully, up which, somewhere probably on the riverside, was his lair.

They went right on, without once being at fault, the footprints, with the left sole badly cracked across, showing clearly at times in the soft soil, till the place where the black-fish were caught was pa.s.sed, and the valley slope mounted for the open ground, where the sheep was kicked into the rift that ran down toward the water.

From here the footsteps went right across toward the station, and the leading black ran them easily and triumphantly right up to the men's bothy, at whose door Brookes stood hollow-cheeked and anxious.

"Got him?" he cried hoa.r.s.ely, when, to his surprise, the blacks dashed at him and had him down, while the leader secured and held up one of his boots with the sole toward the head of the police.

"Mine find," he cried, pointing to a crack across the sole; and Nic forced the nag away, and trotted off to the stable to hide his laughter, and then stood patting his horse, feeling quite heartsick from the tension now relieved.

For he had made sure that so as to be in a place not likely to be searched Leather had come by night to the station, and that he would be found hidden in one of the piles of wool, whereas it was evident that Brookes had been over to the Wattles, and had come that way back, searching along the fern gully, to make sure of Leather not being in hiding there.

For two days more the police hunted in every direction, but neither the keen eyes of the blacks nor the senses of the dogs were of any avail, and at last the search was given up.

"We shall find him back here some day," said the head policeman, "if he's still alive. But,"--the man looked significantly at Nic--"they don't always have life left in 'em when we do find 'em. Good day, sir.

We may look you up again."

They rode off, and the station was free of them, for they had made a sort of barrack of the wool-shed, where the fleeces made most satisfactory beds; and as they grew less and less, Nic turned away, to see the light all at once blaze, as it were, into his darkened mind.

"How stupid!" he said, half aloud. "Why, I know where he is hiding, after all."

He looked up, and there was Brookes watching him with curious eye.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

IN A TRAP.

Sleep did not come very readily to Nic's eyes that night, and he looked very heavy and thoughtful at breakfast time next morning.

"How thankful I shall be when your father comes home, my dear!" said Mrs Braydon.

"A bag of flour would be the best thing," said Nic to himself.

"I know, of course, my dear, that you are doing wonders," continued Mrs Braydon, looking uneasily at her son, and misinterpreting his heavy look into showing annoyance at her remark. "Both the girls and I are astonished at the rapidity with which you have taken up this wild farm life, and gone on with it as if you had been working for years; but we cannot help longing to see your father back to take the management and give us that feeling of protection which we miss."

"I ought to have guessed it at once," muttered Nic.

"Is anything the matter, Nic?" said Hilda.

"Matter? No. Why?"

"You seem so dull, and you are not eating your breakfast."

"Oh yes, I am," cried the boy, with forced merriment; and he rapidly attacked the meal and made mother and sisters more uneasy by eating tremendously and talking rapidly at the same time about how glad he would be to have the doctor back.

Soon after breakfast Nic went to the storehouse and filled a bag with meal, carrying it afterwards to the stable.

"I suppose one of the horses is ill," said Hilda. "Nic has been to fetch some flour to make it a mash."

"Then that's what made him so anxious and thoughtful at breakfast time,"

cried Mrs Braydon. "Poor boy! it worried him. He wants to get it well again before your father's return."

Janet said nothing, but attributed it to the right reason--that her brother was troubled about the convict--and she trembled in her longing to ask him, but did not dare.

Meanwhile Hilda had her thoughts; and the consequence was that Nic grew angry, as he busied himself about the place, going here and there looking after the men, inspecting the cattle, and carefully watching that no tasks were being left undone.

"I never saw anything like it," he said to himself: "go where I will it's just as if some one was watching me. They surely cannot suspect anything."

Then, too, four or five times, when he had made up his mind to start, old Sam or Brookes or his mother wanted him about some matter. But still it was yet good time in the morning, when, taking his gun, the mounted Sorrel, slung the big bag of meal across the saddle-bow and rode out.

"You will not be late, my dear?" cried Mrs Braydon. "Oh no, mother; back in good time." Then to himself, "Don't--pray don't ask me which way I'm going."

"It must be for some bullock at a distance," said Mrs Braydon, as she thoughtfully noted the bag across the saddle-bow, the fine sacking having now a.s.sumed an hour gla.s.s shape, at which Janet gazed curiously, feeling puzzled, though she could not have told why.

"At last!" muttered Nic, as he pressed his horse's sides and rode off, feeling very guilty, and yet bright and exhilarated, quite confident too of having solved a problem, though he was doubtful still as to whether he would be able that night to write down mentally QEF.

He cast an eye to left and right to see if he were being watched, but every one seemed to be busy over his or her affairs, and he began to think that his start was exciting no interest whatever, when he saw Brookes crossing the big field beyond the garden.

But the man did not turn his head in Nic's direction; and the next minute, after forcing himself not to look round, the boy had placed the trees between them, and cantered away quite out of sight of the house, keeping down in a hollow leading toward the fern gully, as if going to visit some cattle on the other side of the hills lying to the south-east. As soon as he was beyond those hills he bore away to the north, as if making for the Wattles; and when a mile or so in that direction he bore to the left again for some distance, and then made for the west--just the very opposite direction to that which he had taken in starting.

The morning was delightful as he rode on, now in the full sunshine, now in shade; and the feeling of exhilaration which came over him seemed to be shared by his horse, which began to dance about and strain to get away for a swift gallop.

A word or two always checked it, and the beautiful creature, whose satin skin glistened in the sunshine, playfully tossed its head and ambled on.