sk to retrace his steps to the horse, whistling for it as
he drew near where he felt that it ought to be, and gladdened at last,
just as darkness was falling, by a responsive neigh.

The long bag of meal was hung up in a tree that Nic felt he could find
again, and then he rode home.

"Poor Leather will think I have deceived him and be suspicious, but it's
impossible to find that place by the precipice to-night."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

NIC HAS SUSPICIONS.

The next day Nic walked over to the spot where he had hung up the bag of
meal, took plenty of precautions to make sure that he was not observed,
and carried it from place to place, halting, resting, and taking a look
round as if he were stalking birds, and finally reaching the proposed
spot, where he dropped the bag into a narrow crevice, covered it with
green, and all the time carried his gun ready as if to aim at a bird.

The precautions, however, appeared to be perfectly unnecessary, and he
was satisfied that he had performed his mission unseen, but it remained
to be proved whether the convict had been earlier and gone away
disappointed.

Making this an opportunity for looking over some sheep, Nic walked about
a mile out of his way going back, and had just finished his casual
inspection when he came upon Brookes, gun on shoulder, who immediately
stood his piece against a bush and began to examine some of the flock,
throwing so much energy into the task that Nic felt suspicious, and a
chill ran through him as he thought it possible that the man was on the
watch.

But Nic felt that the only course open to him was to assume a careless
air; and walking over to where the man had caught a sheep, thrown it,
and was examining its fleece, he exclaimed:

"Anything the matter with it, Brookes?"

"My word, Mr Nic, how you made me jump! Why, where did you come from?"

"Over yonder. I was here ten minutes ago, and didn't notice anything
wrong then."

"Oh, you've been a-shepherding, sir, have you? That's right: sheep's
things you can't be too 'tickler about. No, there's nothing very wrong.
I'll come round here with a bucket o' dressing, though, to-morrow."

"Shall I go or stay?" thought Nic, as the man turned over layer after
layer of the thick wool which opened down the animal's sides as if
divided by a series of partings like that leading to the crown of a
human being's head. "If I stay I shall make him suspicious. If I go it
may disarm him."

"Oh," h