The clown obeyed. There was a sharp, amazed yelp of pain from the cub, and an answering roar from the mother. Another protesting cry--and then again that yellow streak as the lioness left her prey and sprang to her baby, with a deafening roar. The clown tugged the cubs sharply back into the recesses of the cage as the mother hurled herself through the narrow opening. Behind her the bars rattled into place and she was restored to captivity.

It was the work of only a moment to rush into the ring, where the tamer lay huddled and motionless. Kind hands lifted him and carried him away beyond the performance tent, with its eager spectators. The attendants quickly unharnessed the two tame lions, and they were removed in another cage, brought in by the elephant for their benefit.

Norah slipped a hot, trembling hand into her father's.

"Let's go, Daddy--I've had enough."

"More than enough, I think," said Mr. Linton. "Come on, little girl."

They slipped out in the wake of the anxious procession that carried the tamer. As they went, a performing goat and monkey pa.s.sed them on their way to the ring, and the clown capered behind them. They heard his cheerful shout, "Here we are again!" and the laughter of the crowd as the show was resumed.

"Plucky chap, that clown," Mr. Linton said.

In the fresh air the men had laid the tamer down gently, and a doctor was bending over him examining him by the flickering light of torches held by hands that found it hard to be steady.

"Not so much damaged as he might be," the doctor announced, rising.

"That shoulder will take a bit of healing, but he looks healthy. His padded uniform has saved his life. Let's get him to the private hospital up the street. Everything necessary is there, and I'd like to have his shoulder dressed before he regains consciousness."

The men lifted the improvised stretcher again, and pa.s.sed on with it.

Norah and her father were following, when a voice called them. The wife of the circus proprietor ran after them--a strange figure enough, in her scarlet riding dress, the paint on her face streaked with tear marks.

"I'd like to know who you are," she said, catching Norah's hand. "But for you my man 'ud 'a been in the ring with that brute. None of us had the sense to think o' bringin' in the cubs. Tell me your name, dearie."

Norah told her unwillingly. "Nothing to make a fuss over," she added, in great confusion.

"I guess you saved Joe's life, an' perhaps my Dave's as well," the woman said. "We won't forget you. Good night, sir, an' thank you both."

Norah had no wish to be thanked, being of opinion that she had done less than nothing at all. She was feeling rather sick, and--amazing feeling for Norah--inclined to cry. She was very glad to get into bed at the hotel, and eagerly welcomed her father's suggestion that he should sit for a while in her room. Norah did not know that it was dawn before Mr.

Linton left his watch by the restless sleeper, quiet now, and sought his own couch.

She woke late, from a dream of lions and elephants, and men who moaned softly. Her father was by her bedside.

"Breakfast, lazy bones," he said.

"How's the tamer?" queried Norah, sitting up.

"Getting on all right. He wants to see you."

"Me!" said Norah. "Whatever for?"

"We've got to find that out," said her father, withdrawing.

They found out after breakfast, when a grateful, white-faced man, swathed in bandages, stammered broken thanks.

"For it was you callin' out that saved me first," he said. "I'd never 'a thought to jump, but I heard you sing out to me, an' if I hadn't she'd a broke my neck, sure. An' then it was you thought o' bringing in the cubs. Well, missy, I won't forget you long's I live."

The nurse, at his nod, brought out the skin of a young tiger, beautifully marked and made into a rug.

"If you wouldn't mind takin' that from me," explained the tamer. "I'd like to feel you had it, an' I'd like to shake hands with you, missy."

Outside the room Norah turned a flushed face to her father.

"Do let's go home, Daddy," she begged. "Cunjee's too embarra.s.sing for me!"

CHAPTER XIV. CAMPING OUT

"About that fishing excursion, Norah?"

"Yes, Daddy." A small brown paw slid itself into Mr. Linton's hand.

They were sitting on the verandah in the stillness of an autumn evening, watching the shadows on the lawn become vague and indistinct, and finally merge into one haze of dusk. Mr. Linton had been silent for a long time. Norah always knew when her father wanted to talk. This evening she was content to be silent, too, leaning against his knee in her own friendly fashion as she curled up at his feet.

"Oh, you hadn't forgotten, then?"

"Well--not much! Only I didn't know if you really wanted to go, Daddy."

"Why, yes," said her father. "I think it would be rather a good idea, my girlie. There's not much doing on the place just now. I could easily be spared. And we don't want to leave our trip until the days grow shorter.

The moon will be right, too. It will be full in four or five days--I forget the exact date. So, altogether, Norah, I think we'd better consult Brownie about the commissariat department, and make our arrangements to go immediately."

"It'll be simply lovely," said his daughter, breathing a long sigh of delight. "Such a long time since we had a camping out--just you and me, Daddy."

"Yes, it's a good while. Well, we've got to make up for lost time by catching plenty of fish," said Mr. Linton. "I hope you haven't forgotten the whereabouts of that fine new hole of yours? You'll have to take me to it if Anglers' Bend doesn't come up to expectations."

A deep flush came into Norah's face. For a little while she had almost forgotten the Hermit--or, rather, he had ceased to occupy a prominent position in her mind, since the talk of the Winfield murder had begun to die away. The troopers, unsuccessful in their quest, had gone back to headquarters, and Norah had breathed more freely, knowing that her friend had escaped--this time. Still, she never felt comfortable in her mind about him. Never before had she kept any secret from her father, and the fact of this concealment was apt to come home closely to her at times and cloud the perfect friendship between them.

"Master Billy will be delighted, I expect," went on Mr. Linton, not noticing the little girl's silence. "Anything out of the ordinary groove of civilisation is a joy to that primitive young man. I don't fancy it would take much to make a cheerful savage of Billy."

"Can't you fancy him!" said Norah, making an effort to break away from her own thoughts; "roaming the bush with a boomerang and a waddy, and dressed in strips of white paint."

"Striped indeed!" said her father, laughing. "I've no doubt he'd enjoy it. I hope his ancient instincts won't revive--he's the best hand with horses we ever had on the station. Now, Norah, come and talk to Brownie."

Mrs. Brown, on being consulted, saw no difficulties in the way. A day, she declared, was all she wanted to prepare sufficient food for the party for a week--let alone for only three days.

"Not as I'll stint you to three days," remarked the prudent Brownie.

"Last time it was to be three days--an' 'twas more like six when we saw you again. Once you two gets away--" and she wagged a stern forefinger at her employer. "And there's that black himp--he eats enough for five!"

"You forget the fish we're going to live on," laughed Mr. Linton.

"'M," said Brownie solemnly. "First catch your fish!"

"Why, of course, we mean to, you horrid old thing!" cried Norah, laughing; "and bring you home loads, too--not that you deserve it for doubting us!"

"I have seen many fishing parties go out, Miss Norah, my dear," said Mrs. Brown impa.s.sively, "and on the 'ole more came 'ome hempty 'anded than bringing loads--fish bein' curious things, an' very unreliable on the bite. Still, we'll 'ope for the best--an' meanwhile to prepare for the worst. I'll just cook a few extry little things--another tongue, now, an' a nice piece of corned beef, an' per'aps a 'am. An' do you think you could manage a pie or two, Miss Norah?"

"Try her!" said Mr. Linton, laughing.