On still, and on, over the rich green flower-decked earth; past groves of trees whose names he did not know,--some bearing the thin foliage of grey or sage green, with delicate shades of pink and blue, others like a coa.r.s.e-leaved spiky-looking fir, whose boughs touched the ground, and densely cl.u.s.tered upward in a pyramid of dark glistening growth that would have hidden a dozen men from a traveller's gaze.

There were the mountains, too, in a long ridge, stretching away to right and left, and always of a delicious amethystine blue, that looked as transparent as water, but always as far off as ever.

A grand, a lovely ride, but a terrible one in that heat; for this was the time when the doctor always had a midday halt by water and in the shade of trees. But there was no stopping for hours at a time like this. Nic felt that he must get on as fast as he could, and with his eyes fixed upon the notch he rode forward to the regular beat of his horse's hoofs.

Hotter and hotter grew the day, and as Nic glanced from side to side he saw that he was not the only sufferer, for the dogs were trotting along with their heads down, and they gazed up at him and whined. His horse, too, began to look more distressed, but it did not flag, keeping up that steady canter toward the blue mountains that never seemed to grow any nearer.

For a few moments the idea lingered in Nic's brain, that he must draw rein in the shade of the next clump of trees, but the thought evoked the face of his father, back there at the waggon, anxious about those dear to him, wondering how all had sped at the Bluff, and he felt that he could not halt even for an hour--that he must go on and on.

Then he began wondering how he would find the place--whether the blacks had been during his father's absence, and attacked it when it was only defended by women and the servants, who might have escaped for their lives.

This idea of the place having been attacked sent such a thrill through Nic that he felt ready for any amount more exertion, and instead of halting he urged his willing steed on, shouted to the dogs and made them leap forward, while his eyes wandered about in search of enemies, but only to see something moving in the distance which, resembled the ostrich of his old picture-books. There was no sign of man, no house, flock, herd, or water, while his tongue was beginning to feel swollen and dry, and a peculiar thickness as of a mist began to obstruct the distant view.

"How much farther is it?" thought Nic; and he shaded his eyes by holding the hand which bore the gun across his forehead.

But he saw no better, and he winced from the touch, of the gun-lock, for it was hot.

Then on, still trusting to the horse more than to himself, for the air had grown thicker, and the mist hot, strange, and dazzling for a time.

There were singing noises, too, in his ears, and as he gave his head a shake in his effort to get rid of them, he suddenly found that the dazzling mist had gone, and he could see right away to the notch--that dent in the mountains which seemed to lead him on and on, but only to recede as he advanced.

That clearness of vision did nut last, for the mist closed in again, lifted, and he saw a bright lake of beautiful silvery water, stretching out as far as he could see, and toward which with throbbing temples he urged on the horse. The next minute it had disappeared, and some one was calling him; the thickening of the air was not from mist, but as of smoke. He must, he felt, with a terrible sense of depression, have neared his devastated home, which was burning, and the light breeze was wafting the dense smoke all over the plain.

"What news to take back to his father!" he thought, in his despair, and this made his senses reel; something struck him heavily, and then he was looking up at the blue sky, as a dark object came between him and it.

For a few moments he must have been quite unconscious, while the next thing he saw was the horse's muzzle close to his face.

He started up into a sitting position, for a dismal howl rang in his ears, followed by a loud joyous barking, which brought him to his feet, guessing the truth.

For the heat had produced that dimness of sight, tortured him with the sight of that imaginary lake, and finally brought on a bad attack of giddiness, which had made him reel in the saddle and fall heavily to the ground.

The shock had helped to revive him; and feeling better, he picked up his gun from where it lay beneath the horse, managed to climb back into the saddle, and the brave beast started on at once straight for a clump of trees about a mile away, while, before they were two-thirds of the distance, the dogs began to bark, and seemed to recover their strength, for they bounded on, and the horse broke into a gallop, following in their track.

A minute or two later Nic knew why, for there was a flash of light from amongst the trees, and soon after he had thrown himself from his horse's back, and was upon his chest in the shade, drinking draughts that seemed to quench the fire in his throat, bathing his face, and listening to the gentle, sucking noise made by the horse where it stood knee deep, and to the barking and splashing of the two dogs as they revelled in the refreshing coolness of the great water-hole.

Nearly half an hour pa.s.sed before Nic resumed his place in the saddle; the horse broke into a canter at once, the dogs ran barking by his side, and, refreshed and clear of vision, it seemed now that the notch in the blue mountains was not quite so far away, while, in spite of the heat, the country on all sides was growing as beautiful as it had seemed at his early start.

On still, but no sign of the station. The ground had ceased to be so level, there was hardly any track, and their course was among clumps of trees, rocks, and rugged hillocks, and there were times when the view was cut off by their descent into some deep gully.

But his father had said that if he kept straight for the notch he would be sure to see the house--the only one; and no house was in view. He must be near it now: was it still in existence? or had some horrible catastrophe befallen it?

The heat was growing insufferable again and the giddiness returning: he could not go much farther. He had been trusting the horse too much: it had evidently brought him astray far down in that suffocating gully,-- the growth was different. He was riding amongst ferns--ferns like those he saw at home, and ferns that spread green lacework fronds right overhead. He must be dreaming again and going to fall from his horse, which was ascending the rapid slope the farther side of the gully. They were soon at the top, and the breeze came pure and sweet again; and a wild cry of exultation burst from the boy's parched throat, for, not a mile away, standing high upon the slope beyond another gully, there was a long, low, white house, with a cl.u.s.ter of wooden buildings near.

Beyond it a rising ground was dotted with sheep; there were cattle, too, farther away, and, as in response to his cry, the dogs burst out into a loud barking, Nic pressed his horse's sides, the spirited animal breaking into a swift gallop and racing on.

For there was no sign of fire or smoke: a glorious picture of a bright oasis in the great wilderness was before him, and his former fears were vain; for, yes--no--yes, out there in the clear air stood a group of watching figures, and the next moment the boy's eyes grew dim--not so dim, though, that he was unable to see white handkerchiefs waving him a welcome--a welcome to his long-wished-for home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

"SWEET, SWEET HOME."

Sour Sorrel wanted no reining in, but stopped short at the foot of the great hillock, down which two bonny-looking, sun-browned maidens had run, followed by a tall, grey, graceful-looking lady.

"It is Dominic, isn't it?" cried one of the girls.

"Yes, it is!" cried the other. "Oh, Nic, how you have grown!"

"And oh!" cried the other, "how you have distressed poor Sorrel! You shouldn't have ridden him so hard."

This was in the intervals between kisses, as the lad was embraced by first one and then the other. But as soon as he could free himself, Nic ran to meet his mother, who was descending more slowly.

"My dear boy!" she cried.

"Mother!" and they were locked in each other's arms.

Mrs Braydon could say no more for some minutes, but stood with the tears streaming down her handsome face, clinging tightly to her son, while the two dogs looked on uneasily, whining and giving short, half-angry barks, as if they did not quite understand whether the attentions of the three ladies were friendly toward their young master.

The tears stood in the eyes of the two girls as well, but they were tears of joy, and in a merry, laughing way the elder cried:

"Oh, mother, you must not keep him all to yourself!"

"No, no, of course not," cried Mrs Braydon, locking one arm now in Nic's. "Poor boy! how hot and weary he is, Janet!"

"Yes; and he has nearly ridden poor Sorrel to death," cried the second girl.

"In his eagerness to get home," said Mrs Braydon, clinging to her son affectionately. "At last--at last! Oh, my boy, it has seemed so long!

But your father, is he just beyond the gully?"

"No, no!" cried Nic excitedly. "A day's journey away."

"And you have come alone?"

"Yes; but tell me," cried Nic. "The blacks: have they attacked you?"

"No, no," cried Janet quickly; "are they out?"

"Yes; we saw a large party this morning coming to attack the waggon.

Father was afraid that they might have been here, and he sent me on for news."

"No," said Mrs Braydon, "they have not been near us. But your father?"

"I left him with the two men and the waggon."

"They'll be all right, mother," said the second girl, squeezing up to Nic's side and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Oh! how wet and hot you are. Sticky boy!"

"Yes, mother dear," said Janet. "Hil is quite right. There's nothing to mind."

"But he said the blacks were going to attack the waggon, my dear," cried Mrs Braydon anxiously. "We had better send over to Mr Dillon for a party to go and meet them."