In the British trench there was impatience and anxiety. The men waiting to go forward, if necessary, to support the raiders, crouched at the fire-step, muttering. Wally, sick with suspense, peered forward beside the Colonel, who had come in person to see the result of the raid.

"I believe they've missed their way altogether," muttered the Colonel angrily. "There should hove been shots long ago. It isn't like Linton. Dawn will be here soon, and the whole lot will be scuppered."

He wheeled at a sudden commotion beyond him in the trench. "Silence there! What's that?"

"That" was Jim Linton and his warriors, very muddy, but otherwise undamaged. They dropped into the trench quietly, those who came first turning to receive heavy objects from those yet on top. Last of all Jim hopped down.

"Hullo, Wal!" he whispered. "Got 'em."

"Got 'em!" said the Colonel sternly. "What? Where have you been, sir?"

"I beg your pardon, sir--I didn't know you were there," Jim said, rather horrified. It is not given to every subaltern to call his commanding officer "Wal," when that is not his name. "I have the guns, sir."

"You have--_what_?"

"The Boche--I mean, the enemy, machine-guns. We brought them back, sir."

"You brought them back!" The Colonel leaned against the wall of the trench and began to laugh helplessly. "And your men?"

"All here, sir. We brought the ammunition, too," said Jim mildly.

"It seemed a pity to waste it!"

Which things, being told in high places, brought Jim a mention in despatches, and, shortly afterwards, confirmation of his acting rank.

It would be difficult to find fitting words to tell of the effect of this matter upon a certain grizzled gentleman and a very young lady who, when the information reached them were studying patent manures in a morning-room in a house in Surrey.

"He's--why," gasped Norah incredulously--"he's actually Captain Linton!"

"I suppose he is," said her father. "Doesn't it sound ridiculous!"

"I don't think it's ridiculous at all," said Norah warmly. "He deserved it. I think it sounds simply beautiful!"

"Do you know," said her father, somewhat embarra.s.sed--"I really believe I agree with you!" He laughed. "Captain Linton!"

"Captain Linton!" reiterated Norah. "Our old Jimmy!" She swept the table clear. "Oh, Daddy, bother the fertilizers for to-night--I'm going to write to Billabong!"

"But it isn't mail-day to-morrow," protested her father mildly.

"No," said Norah. "But I'll explode if I don't tell Brownie!"

"And will the Captain be coming 'ome soon, Miss Norah?" inquired Allenby, a little later. The household had waxed ecstatic over the news.

"The Captain?" Norah echoed. "Oh, how nice of you, Allenby! It does sound jolly!"

"Miss de Lisle wishes to know, miss. The news 'as induced 'er to invent a special cake."

"We'll have to send it to the poor Captain, I'm afraid," said Norah, dimpling. "Dear me, I haven't told Mrs. Hunt! I must fly!" She dropped her pen, and fled to the cottage--to find her father there before her.

"I might have known you couldn't wait to tell," said Norah, laughing.

"And he pretends he isn't proud, Mrs. Hunt!"

"I've given up even pretending," said her father, laughing. "I found myself shaking hands with Allenby in the most affectionate manner. You see, Mrs. Hunt, this sort of thing hasn't happened in the family before."

"Oh, but those boys couldn't help doing well," Mrs. Hunt said, looking almost as pleased as the two beaming faces before her. "They're so keen. I don't know if I should, but shall I read you what Douglas says about them?" They gathered eagerly together over the curt words of praise Major Hunt had written. "Quite ordinary boys, and not a bit brainy," he finished. "But I wish I had a regiment full of them!"

Out in Australia, two months later, a huge old woman and a lean Irishman talked over the letter Norah had at length managed to finish.

"And it's a Captin he is!" said Murty O'Toole, head stockman.

"A Captain!" Brownie echoed. "Don't it seem only yesterday he was tearing about in his first little trousis, and the little mistress watching him!"

"And riding his first pony. She put him over her head, and I med sure he was kilt. 'Howld her, will ye, Murty,' says he, stamping his little fut, and blood trickling down his face. 'Give me a leg up again,' he says, 'till we see who's boss!' And I put him up, and off he went down the paddock, digging his little heels into her. And he's a Captin! Little Masther Jim!"

"I don't know why you're surprised," said Brownie loftily. "The only wonder to _me_ is he wasn't one six months ago!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE END OF A PERFECT DAY

"Are you ready, Norah?"

"Coming, Phil--half a minute!"

Hardress, in riding kit, looked into the kitchen, where Norah was carrying on a feverish consultation with Miss de Lisle.

"You'll be late," he said warningly. "Your father and Geoffrey have gone on."

"Will I truly?" said Norah distractedly. "Yes, Miss de Lisle, I'll write to the Stores about it to-night. Now, what about the fish?"

"Leave the fish to me," said Miss de Lisle, laughing. "If I can't manage to worry out a fish course without you, I don't deserve to have half my diplomas. Run away: the house won't go to pieces in a single hunting day."

"Bless you!" said Norah thankfully, dragging on her gloves and casting a wild glance about the kitchen for her hunting crop. "Oh, there it is. Good-bye. You won't forget that Major Arkwright is only allowed white meat?"

"Oh, run away--I won't forget anything."

"Well, he only came last night, so I thought you mightn't know," said the apologetic mistress of the house. "All right, Phil--I'm truly coming. Good-bye, Miss de Lisle!" The words floated back as she raced off to the front door, where the horses were fretting impatiently, held by the groom.

They jogged down the avenue--Hardress on one of the brown cobs, Norah on Brunette, the black pony--her favourite mount. It was a perfect hunting morning: mild and still, with almost a hint of spring warmth in the air. The leafless trees bore faint signs of swelling leaf-buds. Here and there, in the gra.s.s beside the drive crocus bells peeped out at them--purple, white and gold.

"We'll have daffodils soon, I do believe," Norah said. "Well, I love Australia, but there isn't anything in the world lovelier than your English spring!"

Ahead of them, as they turned into the road, they could see Mr.

Linton, looking extraordinarily huge on Killaloe, beside Geoffrey's little figure on Brecon.

"This is a great day for Geoff," Hardress said.

"Yes--he has been just longing to go to a meet. Of course he has driven a good many times, but Mrs. Hunt has been a bit nervous about his riding. But he's perfectly safe--and it isn't as if Brecon ever got excited."