Jim. "Then
you'll suddenly stop being meek and get swelled head."

"And not be half so nice," interjected Bob.

"But so useful!" said Tommy demurely. "Only sometimes I become
afraid--for you seem always to kill a whole sheep or bullock up in the
bush, and how I am to deal with it I do not know!"

"It sounds as if you preferred some one to detach an occasional limb
from the sheep as it walked about!" said Jim, laughing.

"Much easier for me--if not for the sheep," said Tommy.

"Well, don't you worry--the meat problem will get settled somehow," Jim
told her cheerfully. "All problems straighten out, if you give 'em time.
Now we're nearly home--that's the fence of our home-paddock. And there
are Norah and Wally coming to meet you."

"Oh--where?" Tommy started up, looking excitedly round the landscape.
"Oh--there she is--the dear! And isn't that a beautiful horse!"

"That's Norah's special old pony, Bosun," said Jim. "We're making her
very unhappy by telling her she's grown too big for him, but he really
carries her like a bird. A habit might look too much on him, but not
that astride kit. You got yours, by the way, Tommy, I hope?"

"Oh yes. I look very strange in it," said Tommy. "And Bob thinks I might
as well have worn out his old uniforms. But I shall never ride like
that--as Norah does."

She looked at Norah, who was coming across the paddock with Wally, at a
hard canter. Her pony was impatient, reefing and plunging in his desire
to gallop; and Norah was sitting him easily, her hands, well down,
giving to the strain on the bit, her slight figure, in coat and
breeches, swaying lightly to each bound. The sunlight rippled on Bosun's
glossy, bay coat, and on the big black horse Wally rode. They pulled
up, laughing, at the gateway, just as the car turned off the road. There
were confused and enthusiastic greetings, and the car dashed on up the
track, with an outrider on each side--both horses strongly resenting
this new and ferocious monster. The years had brought a good deal of
sober sense to Bosun and Monarch, but motors were still unfamiliar
objects on Billabong. Indeed, no car of the size of Norah's Rolls-Royce
had ever been seen in the district, and the men gaped at it open-mouthed
as Jim drove it round to the stable after unloading his passengers.

"Yerra, but that's the fine carry-van," said Murty. "Is that the size
they have them in England, now?"

"No, it isn't, Murty--not as a rule," Jim answered. "This