But at the whistles
each dog dashed out from his nook, tearing over everything in front
of him in his haste not to be left behind; and in three seconds
half a dozen of them were whining and jumping round the children,
waiting for orders which way to go.
A majestic wave of the hand, and the order "Go and find him!" from
the eldest of the children, sent a hurricane of dogs yapping with
excitement off to the creek, and the hunters followed at a brisk
run. Gavan Blake and Mary Grant trotted along together in the
bright moonlight. Just in front were Ellen and Hugh, he laughing
at the excitement of the dogs and children, she looking over her
shoulder and hoping to hear what Blake was saying to the heiress.
As a matter of fact, he was making the most of his chances, and
before long they were getting on capitally. Mary found herself
laying aside her slow English way, and laughing and joking with
the rest. There is something intoxicating in moonlight at any time;
and what with the moon and the climate, and the breeze whistling
through the gum-boughs, it was no wonder that even the staidly-reared
English girl felt a thrill of excitement, a stirring of the primeval
instincts that civilization and cultivation had not quite been able
to choke.
"When you go back to England, Miss Grant," said Blake, "you will
be able to tell them that you have hunted 'possums, anyhow.
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