Yes, I know that, sir; but I ain't. I don't like Leather 'cause he's a
convict, and it ain't nice for honest men to have them sort for
fellow-servants. But I don't want him ketched and flogged. Not me."

"But will they catch him, do you think, Sam?"

"Ah, that's what nobody can say. Most likely yes, because if the dogs
get on his scent they'll run him down."

"But the rain?"

"Ay, that's in his favour, sir. But, then, there's another thing: the
blacks will be set to work again."

"But they can't scent him out."

"Nay; but they can smell him out with their eyes and run him down.
Bound to say, if I set our three to work, they'd find the poor lad."

"They are very keen and observant."

"Keen, Master Nic? Ay! It's a many years now since I shaved; but if I
took to it again I shouldn't use rayshors, sir, but blackfellows' sight.
Steel's nowhere to it."

"But how do you know they didn't catch him?"

"I sent Damper and Rigar to see the fun, and they came back to me
grinning, and told me."

"But did Mr Dillon set his blacks to work tracking?"

"Ay, that he did; but it strikes me they didn't want to find the poor
chap. It's like this, you see, Master Nic. Yes'day morning, as soon as
our three found out, from Brooky's face looking like a bit o' unbaked
damper, and his tied-up head, that he'd been having it, they asked me
how it was, and I told 'em. Next minute I goes into the cow-shed to see
what the noise was, and them three chaps--for they're just like little
children--there they were, with jyned hands, having a crobbery sort o'
dance."

"Why?"

"Why, sir? Just because they were precious glad that Brooky had found
his master. They didn't say so, but I knew. You don't suppose, because
a chap's face is black, he likes to be hit with sticks, and kicked, and
sneered at. They're little children in big black bodies, master; but
they like the man who shares his damper and mutton with 'em and never
gives 'em a dirty word a deal better than him as treats 'em as if they
was kangaroos."

"Of course, Sam."

"They get their likes same as little children do. The lazy black
rascals!" continued the old man, grinning; "they always want to be at
play, and I give it 'em well sometimes, but they know they deserve it;
and, after all, they'd do anything for me, Master Nic, and so they would
for you."

"Oh, I've done nothing to please them, Sam."

"Oh yes you have, Master Nic, often; and just you look here--they