The green line of the timber ahead beckoned her. She knew well that she would never have been allowed to enter it alone; but she was in the reckless, defiant mood that considers it as well to be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. After all, she thought, she must certainly meet the boys very soon; every moment she paused, thinking she heard their voices. It would be cooler to wait in the shade, even if she only went just within the edge of the belt of trees. But once there, she strayed further and further in, tempted by the leafy green alleys that she loved. Olaf loved them as much as she; he paced along, daintily arching his beautiful neck. The sunlight, filtering through the gum leaves, made dappled patterns on the black satin of his skin. Once or twice he pricked his ears questioningly, as though listening to some sound Merle could not hear--surely, she thought, the boys' horses coming through the trees from the Ten-Mile. So she went slowly on.
Dick came across to the homestead from the stables, feeling suddenly very tired. He had not eaten since breakfast; and morning, with its early start and the fun and laughter of the ride out, seemed to belong to another age altogether. Then, cruelty and murder had been things that people talked about, without realising their existence; now they had suddenly come close enough to be touched, and the whole world was altered. His heart was heavy for the old man who had been kind to him; dead now, and without the chance of striking a blow in his own defence. Dick's fists clenched in helpless anger.
The great bell of the station crashed out suddenly, in such thunderous clamour that he jumped and then stood still. What Mr. Warner called its "tinkle"--the daily summons to dinner--had seemed to Dick violent enough; but this was a new sound altogether, a resonant, brazen din that clanged furiously, sending its strident clashing far out across the paddocks. The squatter's words came back to him--"It can make a very tolerable din in the hands of an active person." Well, that was no exaggeration--surely its wild clamour must reach every man working out on the run.
He went across to the high stand from which the bell hung. It was swaying back and forth in a kind of mad dance, and below stood Mrs. Macleay, her muscles swelling under her thin blouse as she tugged at the rope.