enthusiastically. Cunjee sank into the distance behind them.

The miles flew past. On the metalled road the rubbered tyres spun
silently, and only the flying hoofs clattered and soon they had left
the made road and turned on to the hard-beaten track that led to
Billabong, where progress was even smoother. The tongues flew almost as
swiftly as the wheels. The hot sun sank gradually, and the evening
breeze sprang up. It was a time for quick questions and answers. Norah
wanted details of the term just over, the sports, the prize-giving, and
had to laugh over messages from those of Jim's boy friends whom she
knew; and Jim had a hundred things to ask about home--the cattle, the
fishing, his horses, his dogs, "Brownie," and the prospects of fun
ahead. They roared over her ducking and subsequent encounter with
Cecil, and chaffed her unmercifully.

"Such a mud-lark!" said Wally, with glee. "And that prim young man! Oh,
Norah, you are a dream! I'd have given something to see your face."

"I was altogether worth seeing," Norah remarked modestly. "When I
caught sight of myself in a glass I really didn't wonder at Cecil." But
Jim glowered and referred to the absent Cecil as a "silly ass."

They turned in at last at the homestead gate, and the ponies fairly
flew up the long paddock, something in the spirits of their drivers
communicating itself to them. The house was not visible until the track
had passed through a thick belt of trees, and as they came to this Jim
fell silent, looking keenly ahead. Then the red roof came into view and
the boy drew a long breath.

"There's the old place," he said. "My word, I am glad to be home!"