I suppose?" said
the magistrate inquiringly.

Nic gave him a furious look, and Mr Dillon nodded good humouredly and
rode after his men, the dogs beginning to bark as they started back, to
be answered by Nibbler and the collies, who thrust their noses under the
bottom of the door.

"Won't take them big stag-hounds long to hunt him down," said Brookes,
trying to hide his nervousness with a grin.

"Think they'll catch him, Sam?" said Nic.

"Well, sir, it's just about like a pair o' well-balanced wool scales,"
said the old man rather sadly. "Dogs has wonderful noses of their own.
But there, I 'spose we shall hear."

Nic went off to the stables, for he had not the heart to go indoors.
And as he stood by his horse the desire came upon him strongly to mount
and ride after Mr Dillon's party, so as to know everything that
happened, but he felt that it might appear to the poor fellow that he
was with the party trying to hunt him down, and he stayed and hung about
the station all day.

"Bung," he said toward evening, "you like Leather?"

"Plenty mine like damper."

"No, no; I mean did Leather ever knock you about?"

"Baal, no. Budgery (good)."

"Go over to the Wattles, Mr Dillon's, and find--did catch Leather. You
pidney? (understand)."

The man gave him a sly look, laughed, and ran into the cow-shed, to come
out directly after in his dress clothes, and armed. Then with a shout
he ran off at a long, quick trot toward the track.

It was getting toward midnight when he returned, to cooey under the
boy's window.

"Well, did you find out?"

"No catch. White fellow plenty run along myall bush."

"Here, catch," cried Nic, and he pitched the man a big piece of damper
and the blade-bone of a shoulder of mutton; and then, as he closed the
window, he fancied he heard whispering outside his door, and another
door closed.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

BLACK SYMPATHY.

Nic found the next day that in their tiny world of the Bluff there were
others sufficiently interested in the convict's fate to have been making
inquiries about the proceedings instituted by Mr Dillon; for on going
round the place in the fresh early morning to see how the live stock was
getting on, the first person he met was old Sam, who saluted him with
one of his ugly smiles, and a chuckle like that of a laughing jackass--
of course the bird.

"They didn't ketch him, Master Nic," he cried.

"Why, you ought to be vexed, Sam," replied the boy.

"