settled."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, he said we should never see you again. Good-bye."

The convict grasped his hand, and they parted at the mouth of the
cavern.

"Nic, my dear," said Mrs Braydon that night. "You will be obliged to
have some more shoes; those last have quite rotted away at the
stitching. You seem to be always wading and getting your feet wet. Do
be careful, my dear; it is so difficult to get anything new. Is all
well about the station?"

"Everything, mother, excepting the loss of those sheep. We must have a
dingo hunt. It won't do to lose any more before father comes home."

Mrs Braydon sighed.

"It seems so long since we have heard, my dear," she said. "If it were
not that I don't like to spare you, I would get you to ride over and see
how Sir John is getting on."

Nic thought he would like to go; but he, too, felt that it would not be
possible to leave home, and for more reasons than one.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

A DOUBLE SURPRISE.

"'Nother sheep gone, Master Nic," said Brookes next morning.

"Then we'll have the dogs out and have a hunt round. Whose flock was it
among?"

"Bung's."

"All right, then; we'll have a turn at once."

Old Sam was told of what was to take place, Damper and Rigar were
fetched from their charges, and gladly joined in, while the dogs nearly
went mad--all three seeming to fully understand what was going to take
place, and displaying their mad delight by charging and rolling one
another over, and a sham worry all round, that suggested horrors for any
unfortunate dingo with which they were not at play.

As Nic rode on between his two men, with the dogs and blacks in front,
he began to feel a little suspicious of the latter, from the way in
which they talked and laughed one to the other, as if they enjoyed the
loss of a sheep as a very good joke; and the boy could not help asking
himself whether they were taking advantage of his inexperience to help
themselves to the wherewithal for an occasional feast.

This impressed him so much at last that he mentioned his suspicions to
old Sam.

But the man shook his head.

"No, sir; I think not," he replied. "We look too sharp after 'em, and
they're too well fed. I won't say what a hungry blackfellow mightn't
do, but our boys ain't hungry, and that makes all the difference. What
do you say, Brooky?"

"I say it ain't the blacks; but I know."

As the man spoke he examined the pan of his gun, and then took out