caught sight of them again
and again, after feeling that all was over and the trail entirely lost.

"If I only were clever as one of the blacks," he thought. "Bungarolo,
Rigar, or Damper would follow the faintest trail."

But their services were needless here. The sorrel nag had been to the
Wattles more than once before its young master's time, and, besides, its
natural instinct led it to gallop along where its fellows had been
before.

Two great ostrich-like birds started up from right and left, and though
he had not come across them before Nic knew that they must be emus; but
he only glanced at them as they raced away, with the rapid motion of
their legs making them almost as invisible as the spokes of a running
wheel. Twice over, too, he saw a drove of kangaroos, which went flying
over the bushes in their tremendous leaps; but they excited no interest
now. He must get to the Wattles soon, or he would be too late.

It was a long ten miles--more probably twelve--and Nic's heart was low,
for he seemed to have been riding three hours, and he began to fear that
the horse would go on following tracks until rein was drawn, so he
stopped; when all at once, as they turned a clump of magnificent gum
trees standing alone upon a beautiful down, there below him, and not a
mile away, was the place he sought--a group of buildings, with the sheep
and cattle dotting the country as far as his eye could range.

And now he checked his horse's speed to a gentle canter, and thought of
what he should do.

He knew that he would be most welcome as a stranger, much more so as Dr
Braydon's son; so he rode straight up to the fence, leaped down, and
hitched his rein over a post close to where several saddles rode upon a
rail, and was going up to the door of the house, when Mr Dillon himself
appeared, and came to meet him with a friendly nod.

"Dr Braydon's son, for a wager!" he cried.

"Yes," said Nic; and before he could say another word the big,
bluff-looking squatter shouted:

"Hi, Belton! Come and rub down and feed Mr Braydon's nag. Now, my
lad, come in. We're just going to have a meal, and you must be hungry
after your ride."

Nic was hungry after his ride, which was a far longer one than Mr
Dillon guessed, for the boy had had nothing since the morning, and the
mention of food struck a responsive chord in his breast. But he had not
come to visit, and, flushing slightly, he spoke out at once, plunging
boldly into the obje