"There's something up," said the old man, as soon as Jerry was gone.
"Of course there's something up," said Joe. "Those fellows didn't come all the way to Boolabong for nothing."
"It's something about young Heathcote," suggested the father.
"If it is," said Jack, "what's that to you?"
"They'll get themselves hanged, that's all about it."
"That be blowed," said Jack; "you go easy and hold your tongue. If you know nothing, nobody can hurt you."
"I know nothing," said Joe, "and don't mean. If I had scores to quit with a fellow like Harry Heathcote, I should do it after my own fashion. I shouldn't get Boscobel to help me, nor yet such a fellow as Nokes. But it's no business of mine. Heathcote's made the place too hot to hold him. That's all about it." There was no more said, and in an hour's time Jerry returned, to the family. Neither the father nor brother asked him any questions, nor did he volunteer any information.
Boolabong was about fourteen miles from Medlicot's Mill. Nokes had walked this distance in the morning, and now retraced it at night--not going right across Gangoil, as he had falsely boasted of doing early in the day, but skirting it, and keeping on the outside of the fence nearly the whole distance. At about two in the morning he reached his cottage outside the mill on the river-bank; but he was unable to skulk in unheard. Some dogs made a noise, and presently he heard a voice calling him from the house. "Is that you, Nokes, at this time of night?" asked Mr. Medlicot. Nokes grunted out some reply, intending to avoid any further question. But his master came up to the hut door and asked him where he had been.
"It's not later for me than for you, Mr. Medlicot."
"From Gangoil? I didn't know you were so friendly there, Mr. Medlicot."
"Not to Gangoil, anyway. Good-night, Mr. Medlicot." Then the man took himself into his hut, and was safe from further questioning that night.
All the Saturday night Heathcote had been on the run, and he did not return home to bed till nearly dawn on the Sunday morning. At about noon prayers were read out on the veranda, the congregation consisting of Mrs. Heathcote and her sister, Mrs. Growler, and Jacko. Harry himself was rather averse to this performance, intimating that Mrs. Growler, if she were so minded, could read the prayers for herself in the kitchen, and that, as regarded Jacko, they would be altogether thrown away. But his wife had made a point of maintaining the practice, and he had of course yielded. The service was not long, and when it was over Harry got into a chair and was soon asleep. He had been in the saddle during sixteen hours of the previous day and night, and was entitled to be fatigued. His wife sat beside him, every now and again protecting him from the flies, while Kate Daly sat by with her Bible in her hand. But she, too, from time to time, was watching her brother-in-law. The trouble of his spirits and the work that he felt himself bound to do touched them with a strong feeling, and taught them to regard him for the time as a young hero.