First in the Field Part 74

But Nic gave Brookes the benefit of a doubt, and rode silently on till he was in sight of the house, when he suddenly pressed his horse's sides and galloped forward.

For he had caught sight of a light waggon drawn up in front; there were horses and men about, and he felt that something important had taken place in his absence.

Ten minutes later he was grasping his father's hands, and then those of the governor, who looked very pale and thin. Lastly those of Lady O'Hara, who held his tightly.

"Oh! just look at him," she cried; "why, he's brown as chestnuts and getting as big as a man. Sure, and what do ye water him with, Mrs Braydon, to make him grow like that?"

"Yes, he has grown," said Nic's mother, smiling with pride.

"Grown! why, he's shot up like a palm tree. Nic, boy, we've come up with your father for me husband to get quite cured: will you have us for a bit?"

Nic's eyes silently gave their answer as he clung to lady O'Hara's hand, just as he did that day when she came to the Friary to fetch him from school, not so very long back; but so many events had happened since, that it seemed an age to the boy, who felt how different he was since then.

"You don't deserve for us to come, Mrs Braydon," said Lady O'Hara as they sat over their homely meal that evening, "for you never come to stay with me, nor the girls neither."

"You see what a simple farmhouse life we lead," said Mrs Braydon, smiling. "We are not fit for Government House."

"Now just hark at her, John!" cried the lady. "Do we want her to come and see Government House? It's to see us."

"Mrs Braydon knows that," said Sir John gravely, "and how deeply we are in her debt. Here we are, after robbing her of her natural protector all this time, come to trouble her more."

"Then let's go back, John," said Lady O'Hara dilly; "sure we're not welcome. We're too foine for her."

"Lady O'Hara!" cried Mrs Braydon indignantly.

"That's brought her to her senses," said the visitor, rising and going to Mrs Braydon to kiss her affectionately. "Don't you know that you're all the dearest and best friends we've got in the world? Hasn't the doctor been sitting up with John night after night, and saved his life?"

"Oh, nonsense! nonsense!" said the doctor quickly.

"It's quite true, Mrs Braydon," said the governor warmly; "and G.o.d bless him for it!"

"There!" cried Lady O'Hara, "now let's all be comfortable. Why, it's like being at home, at the old place from which John fetched me when he was only Lieutenant O'Hara, and hadn't a grand handle to his name.

Gyurls, I'm going to enjoy myself with you while the governor gets strong and well. Sure I can make b.u.t.ter as well as either of you.

Didn't we have two Kerry cows at home? As for bread, there I'll bate-- beat I mean--either of you. Nic, boy, you'll take me round with you when you go to see to the stock; only I must have a quiet ould mare-- none of your great tatthering savage craytures that want to go like the wind. I've brought my strong riding habit. And you gyurls, you'll ride too?"

"Of course," cried Janet eagerly.

"Then we're going to have quite a happy time; and John'll get quite strong, won't he, doctor?"

"Yes, he'll be a new man in a month."

"What!" cried the lady, with an a.s.sumed look of alarm: "John, darlin', order the waggon and horses out. Ring for the men. We'll go back home directly, and try the new doctor that's just come out."

"Why?" said Sir John, smiling.

"Sure, didn't he say he'd make a new man of you? Don't I want you the same as you always were? A new man, indeed!"

A merry evening was pa.s.sed, but before they parted for the night the doctor said:

"I've asked no questions, Nic, boy; but all seems to be right."

"Nearly, father--not quite."

"Not quite? Well, that doesn't sound very serious. But I want to know fully what this upset has been about the a.s.signed servant."

Nic briefly told of the trouble.

"Ah, well, we'll have that over in the morning, Nic. I'm sorry, though, for I thought the man was trustworthy."

Nic gave his father a pained look, as the doctor went on: "I shall ride over and see Dillon. Well, what next?"

"Three sheep have gone, father, one after the other."

"I am not surprised," said the doctor drily.

"But, father--" began Nic.

"Not to-night, my boy. I know what you are going to say. This man was rather a favourite of yours. Now, what other troubles?"

"None, father."

"That's good. Then you've done well, boy. But I was very anxious to get back, for there has been a serious rising among the convicts, and two parties have escaped to the bush. I was afraid you might be having a visitation."

"They're taken by this time, Braydon, depend upon it," said Sir John.

"My people will not rest till they are. There, I'm tired out. You'll excuse me to-night?"

"I beg your pardon, O'Hara," said the doctor. "Yes, bed for us too.

Good night, Nic. To-morrow you will have to render me an account of your stewardship."

Nic sought his bed that night with mingled feelings of pleasure and pain.

It was delightful to feel the warm grip of his father's hand again, and to see Lady O'Hara's merry, cheery face; but, on the other hand, after being captain of the station so long, there was a slight suspicion of regret at having to give up his independent position; and then there was the trouble about the convict. His father said he would go and see Mr Dillon, and there was what the magistrate would say about him. Then his conscience smote him for that which was a lapse of duty. He had made so great an intimate of Leather, and he felt as if he had been helping him to defy the law. Sir John O'Hara was sleeping under their roof now, and he was governor, judge--a regular viceroy in the colony. What would he say?

Above all, what would the doctor do?

It was a long time before Nic could settle off to sleep that night, and in consequence he was very late the next morning.

CHAPTER FORTY.

THE DOCTOR PLAYS MAGISTRATE.

Do I mean Nic did not get down till breakfast was ready, about eight o'clock?

No, I do not. This was Australia in its earlier days of the colony, and people's habits were different from ours.

Nic Braydon's lateness consisted in his being fast asleep when the piping crow began to run up and down its scales to announce that the stars were paling faster, when the laughing jacka.s.ses chuckled at the loud crowing of the c.o.c.ks; and he was dreaming about Mayne being brought up to the station by mounted police when the sun had been visible an hour.