"In that case you'd better go. It's no good me trying it. He'd think I was lying, and there'd be no getting it out of him. I'll stay with her if you go. Besides my horse is no good. Ping will do the journey in half the time," Jim answered.
Glen looked at him. Jim's face did not move a muscle.
"It's lucky you came," Glen remarked. "Tell me what brought you here."
"Another time," replied Jim hesitatingly.
Glen told him how he found her, and Jim Benny was as helpless as himself in solving the problem.
"It's very strange," said Jim. "We've never seen a woman round here before. What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep her until she's pulled round. Then I can find out all about her," returned Glen.
A faint cry came from the hut which caused them to turn round quickly and run back. A strange, weird sight met their eyes. The woman was standing close to the bed. Her hair was down. They noticed it was a beautiful nut-brown, and there was plenty of it. Her arms were stretched out. Her eyes stared glassily. As Glen came in she tottered forward, and he caught her in his arms.
A thrill went through him as he clasped her. Her face was close to his. He felt her breath on his cheek. He drew her tightly towards him, and held her for several minutes. Jim Benny watched him with a queer light in his eyes.
Glen carried her, laying her on his rough bed. She was exhausted with the exertion and remained quite still.
"You'd better go at once," said Jim, "she's bad, very bad."
Glen stood thinking for a few minutes, then asked, "You'll not leave her while I'm gone?"
"No, I'll sit by her as I found you sitting. See?" and he sat on the log, placing his hand on her breast. "That'll soothe her."
Without another word Glen Leigh left the hut.
He whistled Ping, and obediently the horse came to his call. Glen saddled him, and rode off towards Boonara. Jim Benny sat looking at the woman. He heard the hoof beats gradually dying away, then with a sudden movement got up and kissed her on the lips. She moaned.
"I couldn't help it. I meant no harm. She reminded me of--never mind names. I loved her, and she married him--that's all done with."
He remained quite still until Spotty, Glen's dog, half dingo, came sniffing round. He had been on the prowl for a day or so, and returned repentant. The predatory instinct was uppermost, which was not to be wondered at considering the wild stock from which he descended, and he made excursions to some land of which his master knew nothing.