on the wrong
side. Bobs was as quick as his rider to watch for these vagrants, and
at the first hint of a breakaway he would be off in pursuit. It was
work the pair loved.

"Hundred and thirty," said Mr. Linton, as the last lumbering beast
trotted past him, and, finding the way clear, with no harrowing
creatures to annoy him and head him back to his mates, kicked up his
heels and made off across the paddock.

"Did any get behind me, Norah?"

"No, Daddy."

"That's a good girl. They look well, don't they?"

Norah assented. "Did you notice how that big poley bullock had come on,
Dad?"

"Yes, he's three parts fat," said Mr. Linton. "All very satisfactory,
and the count is only two short--not bad for a rough muster."

They turned homewards, cantering quickly over the paddocks; the going
was too good, Norah said, to waste on walking; and it was a delight to
feel the long, even stride under one, and the gentle wind blowing upon
one's cheeks. As he rode, Mr. Linton watched the eager, vivid little
face, alight with the joy of motion. If Bobs were keen, there was no
doubt that his mistress was even keener.

They crossed the log fence again by what Norah termed "the direct
route," traversed the home paddock, and drew up with a clatter of hoofs
at the stable yard. Billy, a black youth of some fame concerning
horses, came forward as they dismounted and took the bridles. But Norah
preferred to unsaddle Bobs herself and let him go; she held it only
civil after he had carried her well. She was leading him off when the
dusky retainer muttered something to her father.

"Oh, all right, Billy," said Mr. Linton. "Norah, those fellows from
Cunjee have come to see me about buying sheep. I expect I shall have to
take them out to the paddock I don't think you'd better come."

"All right, Dad." Sheep did not interest Norah very much. "I think I'll
go down to the lagoon."

"Very well, don't distinguish yourself by falling in," said her father,
with a laugh over his shoulder as he hurried away towards the house.

Left to herself, Norah paid a visit to Brownie in the kitchen, which
resulted in afternoon tea--there was never a bush home where tea did not
make its appearance on the smallest possible pretext. Then she slipped
off her linen jacket and brown leather leggings and, having beguiled
black Billy into digging her some worms, found some fishing tackle and
strolled down to the lagoon.

It was a broad sheet of water, at one end