t then she did not know the way
across the ranges, the bush was dense and close, there was no track, and
she might easily be lost for a week there. The only alternative was the
road, and it would take her two hours at least to walk, and what might
not happen in two hours? She could dimly see the buildings in the yard
now, the stable, the cowshed, her father's office, the men's hut, the
post-and-rail fence of the stockyards beyond, with the bushrangers'
horses hitched to it all in a row. It struck her forcibly how secure,
how safe, they must have felt thus to have left their horses, their only
means of escape, alone and unguarded. Should she let them go? Should she
drive them away? And then another thought flashed into her mind. Why not
make use of one of these horses? Whatever she did must be done quickly,
and if only she could ride she might bring help in very little over the
hour. In an hour not much harm could happen, surely. Surely they might
spend their Christmas yet at Warwingie in peace and happiness. Her
father would not return to find his home desolate, and Tom--Tom--but no,
she dared not think of Tom. Only this afternoon she had laughed his love
to scorn, and now there came back to her his face drawn with pain, but
full of love and tenderness and thought for her--the sun-bronzed face
with soft brown eyes, giving not one thought to himself, not one thought
to the life he was risking for her sake. The danger was lest she should
be heard. And then, if they shot him, as she most firmly believed they
would, what would her life be worth. Not worth living, thought Bessie
Warner, as she stole softly up to the horse nearest the slip panels that
led out into the home paddock. She had not been born and bred in the
bush for nothing, and if she could once get the horse out of the yard
half her troubles would be over.

"Woa, horse," she said softly, putting out her hand and patting his
neck, "woa, good horse;" but he started back to the utmost limit of his
halter, and showed his fear so plainly that she shrunk back in terror
lest the noise of his movements should bring out one of the gang.
Trembling she took shelter inside the open stable door, her heart
beating so hard it seemed to deafen her. The big chestnut settled down
quietly again before she ventured out, and this time she picked out a
little dark horse. There was a big, quiet-looking white beside him, but
though he stretched out his nose to be patted she rejected him