Mates at Billabong Part 25

There was no Jim to aid her--she knew it, even as she cried. The rough grasp tightened; she could feel his breath as he dragged her from the saddle.

Then from the darkness came a tall, stealthy shadow, and suddenly her wrists were free, as her a.s.sailant staggered back in the grip of the newcomer. She made a violent effort and found herself back in the saddle; and Bobs was plunging wildly, his bridle free. The necessity of steadying him in the timber helped her to calm herself. Before her the men were swaying backwards and forwards, blocking the way to the track; her enemy's savage voice mingling with a lower one that was somehow familiar, though she could not tell what he said. Then she saw that the struggle was ending--the tall man had the other pinned against a tree, and turned to her. His dark face was close, and she cried out to him, knowing him for a friend.

"Oh, Lal Chunder, it's you!"

"Him beat," said Lal Chunder, breathlessly. "L'il meesis orright?"

"I'm all right," she said, struggling with--for Norah--an unaccountable desire to cry. "Oh, don't let him go!"

"No," said the Hindu, decidedly. "Him hurt you? Me kill him."

The last remark was uttered conversationally, and the man against the tree cried out in fear. Lal Chunder flung at him a flood of rapid Hindustani, and he collapsed into s.h.i.+vering silence. Probably it was rather awe-inspiring--the great black-bearded Indian, with his keen, enraged face and the voice that seemed to cut. But to Norah he was a very haven of refuge.

"Oh, you mustn't kill him," she said. "The boys will be here--men coming--quick! Can you hold him?"

"Hold him--yes--tight," said Lal Chunder, tightening his grip as he spoke, to the manifest discomfort of the man against the tree. Then came distant voices, and a s.n.a.t.c.h of a School song, mingled with quick hoofs; and Norah caught her breath in the sharpness of the relief. She rode out on the track, calling to Jim.

The boys pulled up, the horses plunging.

"Norah! What on earth--"

Norah explained rapidly, and Jim flung himself off, tossing Garryowen's rein to Wally, and ran to her.

"Kiddie--you're all right? He didn't hurt you?" The boy's voice was shaking.

"Only my wrists," said Norah, and then began to shudder as the memory of the struggle in the trees came back to her. Jim put his arm about her.

"Thank heaven for that blessed Indian!" said he. "Steady, old girl--you're all right," and Norah recovered herself.

"Yes, I'm all right, Jimmy," she said, a little shakily. "What about Lal Chunder?"

"Here's the buggy," said Wally, and in a moment Murty and Boone were on the scene, when it was the work of a few minutes to tie the prisoner with halters and hoist him into the buggy, where he lay very uncomfortable, with his head close to the splashboard. There was much explanation, and it would probably have gone hard with the prisoner but for Jim, as Murty and Boone wanted to deal out instant justice.

"Not good enough," Jim said. He was rather white, in the glow of the buggy lamps. "He'll be better safe in gaol." He turned to Lal Chunder, who had drawn close to Norah, and was contemplating his right hand, which had been nearly shaken off by the four from Billabong. The Hindu's English was not equal to his sense of friends.h.i.+p, and conversation with him lacked fluency. It was some time before Jim could make him understand that they wanted him to return to the station--and indeed, it was Norah who made it clear at last.

"Me want you," she said, taking the dusky hand in hers. "Come back to my home." She pointed towards the direction of Billabong. Lal Chunder capitulated immediately.

"It is an order," he said, gravely; and forthwith climbed into the buggy, a weird figure between the two stockmen, their faces still flushed with anger as they looked at the man lying between their feet.

"We'll put him away in the lock-up, an' be out agin in no time, Masther Jim," said Murty. "Take care of her me boy." And the stockman, who had known Norah since her babyhood, choked suddenly as he looked at her pale face. Norah was herself again, however, and she smiled at him cheerily.

"I'm right as rain, Murty!" she said, in the Bush idiom. "Don't you worry about me."

"'Tis pluck y' have," said the Irishman. He turned the buggy with some difficulty, for the track was narrow, and they spun off on the return journey to Cunjee, while Norah, between the two boys, was once more on the way to Billabong.

"You're sure you're all right, Nor.?" Jim said, looking at her keenly.

"Yes--truly, Jim." Norah had made up her mind not to say too much. There was nothing to be gained by harrowing them with unnecessary details--and, child-like, the memory of her terror was already fading, now that care and safety had again wrapped her about. "I was a bit scared, but that's all over."

"Then," said Jim, "can you tell me where is Cecil?" His voice was dangerously calm.

"Oh, he--he went on," Norah said. "We had a dispute, and he was a bit put out."

"A dispute? What about?"

"He wanted to ride Bobs."

"DID he?" Jim said. "And because you wouldn't let him, he cleared out and left you?"

"Well, he was offended," Norah replied slowly, "and I dare say he thought I would catch him up--instead of which I hung back, hoping you boys would catch ME up. So it wasn't really his fault."

"He must have known you would be coming through that timber by yourself in the dark."

"Oh, most likely he reckoned I'd have you with me by that time. He doesn't understand very well, does he? He didn't mean any harm, Jim."

"I don't know what he meant," Jim said, angrily. "But I know what he did--and what he'd have been responsible for if Lal Chunder hadn't happened along in the nick of time. Great overgrown calf! Upon my word, when I see him--"

"Oh, don't have a row, Jim," Norah pleaded. "He's a guest."

"Guest be hanged! Do you mean to say that's excuse for behaving like a cad?"

"Ah, he wouldn't mean to. Don't tell him about--about Lal Chunder--and the man."

"Not tell him?" Jim exclaimed.

"Well, not to-night, anyhow. Promise me you won't have a row to-night--and if you tackle him when you get home there will be a row.

Wait until Dad comes home." finished Norah, a little wearily.

Behind her, Wally leaned across to his chum. They pulled back a little.

"I say--don't worry her, old man," Wally said. "I guess she's had a bit of a shock--let's try and keep her mind off it. Do what she asks." And Jim nodded.

"All right, old woman," he said, coming alongside again. "I won't slay him to-night--don't bother your little head. We'll let Dad fix him."

Norah's grateful look rewarded him.

"Thanks, Jimmy," she said. "I--I'm feeling like having a little peace.

And he'd never understand, no matter what you said."

"I suppose he wouldn't," Jim agreed. "But he's a worm! However--the storm's coming, and if we don't want wet jackets we'd better travel."

They tore homewards through the hot night. Presently Wally started a chorus, and both boys were relieved when Norah joined in. They nodded at each other cheerfully behind her back. So, singing very l.u.s.tily, if not in the most artistic fas.h.i.+on, they reached the Billagong stables just as the first heavy drops were falling.

Within, Cecil met them, a little nervously.

"I thought you were lost," he said.

"H'm," said Jim, pa.s.sing him, and struggling with his promise. "Sorry you and Norah had any difference of opinion."