at a walk, then it cantered, and
then galloped straight for the Bluff, as if trying to escape from the
pelting rain, while it quivered at every flash and bounded on as the
lightning was followed by a deafening roar.

"There'll be no trail to follow," cried Nic exultantly; "it will all be
washed away, and he'll shelter himself under some tree. But hurrah! I
shall see him again. Let old Dillon flog the whipping-post, or, if he's
disappointed, let him have old Brookes."

For a peculiar feeling of exultation had come upon the boy, and the
storm, instead of being startling, seemed grand, till he rode into the
enclosure, seeing that lights were in three of the windows, and a trio
of voices cried:

"Nic, is that you?"

"Yes, all right," he shouted. "So hungry. In as soon as I've seen to
my horse."

Five minutes after he ran in dripping wet, and had hard work to keep
Mrs Braydon from embracing him.

"Not till I've changed, mother," he cried.

"But where have you been?"

"Over to Dillon's, to get him not to punish Leather, and let him come
away."

"Yes, Nic?" cried Janet excitedly.

"He wouldn't let him come."

Janet heaved a piteous sigh and sank back in her chair, while Nic
hurried to his room to get rid of his soaking garments.

When he came out to go to the room where the meal had been kept waiting
all those many hours for his return, he met Janet.

"You coward!" she whispered: "you have not tried."

"I did my best," whispered Nic. "But, I say, Jan, can you keep a
secret?"

"Yes: what?" she cried excitedly.

"Old Dillon must be as mad as mad. Leather has escaped, and has made
for the myall scrub."

Janet uttered a peculiar sound: it was caused by her pressing her hands
to her lips to suppress a cry, as she ran to her own room.

"Poor chap!" said Nic to himself. "I'm glad she likes him too."

CHAPTER THIRTY.

THE QUEST.

As Nic had supposed would be the case, hoof-marks were either
obliterated or looked faint and old from the heavy soaking they had
received in the storm, while those made by a man were invisible, unless
to the ultra-keen eyes of some natives.

He noted this when he went out that same morning in pretty good time,
for he felt convinced that Mr Dillon would give him the credit of
helping Leather to escape.

It was a glorious morning, the dust being washed away by the storm, and
everything looking beautifully fresh and green in the sunshine.

When he went out he was so