Hugh Stanford's Luck by Mary Grant Bruce

Author:Mary Grant Bruce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: juvenile, fiction, horses, Australia
Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada
Published: 1931-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VIII

A SOUND IN THE NIGHT

"Oh, hang the telephone!" uttered Mr. Stanford.

"What is the matter, Robert?" Mrs. Stanford paused as she crossed the hall, her arms full of flowers.

"This wretched thing is out of order again, or else they've gone to sleep in Scardale. I've been trying to raise them for ten minutes, to get on to the agents, and I can't get a sound."

"What a nuisance!" said his wife, "Is it urgent, Robert?"

"Well, I wanted to speak to them about those bullocks I'm sending in next week. I suppose there's a tree down across the line again. It can't be helped, and I can't wait. I told McIlwraith I'd meet him at ten o'clock at the Five-mile Gate, and I'm late already."

"Can you leave the message for me to deliver, in case I can get through during the day?"

"Yes, it's all I can do." He was scribbling on the telephone-pad as he spoke. "If the line isn't fixed up before I get back I'll have to drive into Scardale, and that will mean a whole day wasted. Well, modern inventions are all right unless they go wrong, and then they leave you in very bad holes! I must go, anyhow." He kissed his wife. "Take care of yourself. I'll be back to-morrow evening if I can possibly manage it."

She went to the verandah to watch him ride off; his horse was fresh and eager, and went down the track in a series of pig-jumps which his rider did not appear to notice. He was on his way to meet a neighbour who had sent word that cattle belonging to both places had broken out of their paddocks, and were making off into wild and hilly country twenty miles to the west. It might be two or three days before they were able to get them back, unless luck favoured them greatly. Already a stock-man had set off for the foot of the hills, leading a packhorse laden with tent and supplies. Mr. McIlwraith would bring his men. They meant to make a quick dash to head off the cattle before they found their way into the steep gullies where mustering them would be no easy matter. Harry and Joan had begged hard to go. They watched with glum faces as the big bay and his rider passed out of sight round a clump of trees.

"I don't see why Dad wouldn't take us."

"He will take you out there some time when he goes alone. But you can't go camping-out in that rough country with strange men," Mrs. Stanford said. "Just bring me out the vases from the hall-table, Joan, please." She glanced at her daughter as she came out again. "Are you quite well this morning?"

"Well, I do feel a bit queer under the wishbone," admitted Miss Stanford, inelegantly. "Why? Do I look queer?"

"Your colour isn't as good as it might be, and your eyes look heavy. You haven't been sampling the gooseberries, I hope? I felt them yesterday, and they're as hard as bullets.

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