s toward the station, and the
leading black ran them easily and triumphantly right up to the men's
bothy, at whose door Brookes stood hollow-cheeked and anxious.

"Got him?" he cried hoarsely, when, to his surprise, the blacks dashed
at him and had him down, while the leader secured and held up one of his
boots with the sole toward the head of the police.

"Mine find," he cried, pointing to a crack across the sole; and Nic
forced the nag away, and trotted off to the stable to hide his laughter,
and then stood patting his horse, feeling quite heartsick from the
tension now relieved.

For he had made sure that so as to be in a place not likely to be
searched Leather had come by night to the station, and that he would be
found hidden in one of the piles of wool, whereas it was evident that
Brookes had been over to the Wattles, and had come that way back,
searching along the fern gully, to make sure of Leather not being in
hiding there.

For two days more the police hunted in every direction, but neither the
keen eyes of the blacks nor the senses of the dogs were of any avail,
and at last the search was given up.

"We shall find him back here some day," said the head policeman, "if
he's still alive. But,"--the man looked significantly at Nic--"they
don't always have life left in 'em when we do find 'em. Good day, sir.
We may look you up again."

They rode off, and the station was free of them, for they had made a
sort of barrack of the wool-shed, where the fleeces made most
satisfactory beds; and as they grew less and less, Nic turned away, to
see the light all at once blaze, as it were, into his darkened mind.

"How stupid!" he said, half aloud. "Why, I know where he is hiding,
after all."

He looked up, and there was Brookes watching him with curious eye.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

IN A TRAP.

Sleep did not come very readily to Nic's eyes that night, and he looked
very heavy and thoughtful at breakfast time next morning.

"How thankful I shall be when your father comes home, my dear!" said
Mrs Braydon.

"A bag of flour would be the best thing," said Nic to himself.

"I know, of course, my dear, that you are doing wonders," continued Mrs
Braydon, looking uneasily at her son, and misinterpreting his heavy look
into showing annoyance at her remark. "Both the girls and I are
astonished at the rapidity with which you have taken up this wild farm
life, and gone on with it as if you had been working for ye