But she was determined to go with him, and the
argument ended in the only possible manner--she went. She promised
to do exactly what she was told, to keep out of the way if so
ordered, and, above all, not to speak except when spoken to.
So off they went through the scrub on the track of the sheep, plain
as print to the young bushman, though invisible to his companion.
They rode at a walk for the most part, for fear of being heard.
Now and again, when they could see for a good distance ahead, they
let the horses canter; Hugh riding in front, she, like a damosel
of old, in assumed submission a few lengths behind, and thoroughly
enjoying the adventure.
Of course she could not keep silence long, and after a while she
drew alongside, and whispered, "Do you think we shall catch them?"
"I hope so. But it's a very curious thing; there has been a dog
after these sheep--see, there's his track," pointing to foot-prints
plainly marked in wet sand--"but no track of man or horse to be
seen. By Jove, look there!"
They had come to the crest of a small hill, and were looking down
a long valley. To right and left of them towered the blue, rugged
peaks; straight in front the valley opened out, and they got a fairly
clear view for a mile or more. About half a mile ahead, travelling
in a compact mass down the valley, was a mob of some two or three
hundred sheep.
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