First in the Field Part 28

"Ay, and the dogs too. Here, give's your paw."

The dog he spoke to growled and showed its teeth.

"Ah, friends! Give him your paw," cried Nic.

The dog held out its right paw, but threw up its head and drew back its muzzle, as it looked at Nic protestingly, as much as to say, "He's only a stranger, and I don't know anything about him."

"Now you," growled Samson; and the same business was gone through, with the dog whining uneasily.

"Hullo! what's the matter?" said Samson, lifting the leg. "There--don't make that row. It's on'y a thorn. You'll get lots o' them in your toes if you behave yourself. Dogs ought to wear boots in some o' these parts. That's it. Big un too. See it?"

He made an offer as if to p.r.i.c.k the dog's nose, after drawing out a long, sharp thorn, making the beast yelp; but as soon as it was out it gave the place a lick, and then barked loudly and danced about the old man, both dogs following him readily now as he went off grinning to the stable.

Mrs Braydon and the girls were waiting, and Nic was led limping toward the house.

"Only a bit stiff with riding," said the boy. "Then we are to be comfortable about father?"

"I suppose so, my dear," said Mrs Braydon. "Janet, my love, see to the tea."

"Everything is ready, mother dear," said the girl affectionately; "and really I don't think we need fidget. Nic cannot go back. He must stay and take care of us and the station."

"Yes," said Mrs Braydon sadly, as if she thought it would be of more consequence to take care of the doctor; and Nic was led into the house, after pa.s.sing through a neatly kept, well fenced-in garden, full of trees, shrubs, and flowers new to him, though beyond a hedge there was a broad spread of homely old friends of a useful kind, growing luxuriantly.

He was ushered at once into a pleasant room, made bright, in spite of its extremely simple furnis.h.i.+ng, by white dimity curtains and home-made mats, the bed in the corner looking white as snow; and, left to himself, the boy luxuriated in a comfortable wash, though in place of ewer and basin he had but a bucket and tub.

Before he had finished, his mother was back with a cup of refres.h.i.+ng tea, this time with cream.

"You'll find everything very rough, my son; but every time the waggon goes on its journey to the port it brings back same more domestic comforts."

"Never mind the roughness, mother," cried Nic, kissing her, and bringing a smile of joy playing about her lips; "it's home, and I'm along with you all again."

"Yes, my son; and I can be quite happy now," said Mrs Braydon, clinging to him fondly. "There, drink your tea," she said quickly, "finish dressing, and there's a brush by the window, and I've brought you my gla.s.s. How brown and blistered your poor face is!"

"Oh, that's nothing, mother," cried Nic. "Hah! delicious!" he sighed, as he finished the tea, making his mother smile her satisfaction.

"Be quick. We have a tea-dinner ready, for we felt that you might come at any time. You will not have to come downstairs, dear; we are all on one floor. We only had one room and the waggon and a tent first; but others have been added, one at a time. I ought to go now, but it is so hard to leave you, my dear."

She kissed him lovingly again--they were the first kisses she had pressed upon his lips for over five years--and then she hurried out.

"Hah!" sighed Nic; "I wish I knew that father was safe." Then, stiff and with his hand trembling from his long ride, he took up the comb to smooth his hair.

"Might as well sit down," he said; and he sank back on the bed. "How soft! Feathers! And the pillow--how cool! Cheeks burn so," he muttered, as he subsided on the restful couch to gaze sidewise at the window with its little sill and flowers growing in a box, all fresh, bright and fragrant.

"I like flowers," he said softly, and then--"Hah!"

He was breathing softly.

The bow strained tightly for so many hours was now unstrung. Every nerve and muscle were relaxed, and the soft, pure air which came through the open window played upon his scorched cheeks.

The horse was swinging along in that easy canter out of the burning suns.h.i.+ne into the shade--a soft, cool, delicious, restful shade--on and on and on toward the Bluff; and Nic felt that there was no more care and trouble in the world. There was nothing to trouble him. He had felt his mother's kisses on his cheeks and lips, and the horse was not rus.h.i.+ng, only swinging along in that glorious canter, for the shade had grown darker, into a soft, sweet obscurity, and everything was so still.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

AFTER NATURE'S REMEDY.

Nic opened his eyes slowly, to gaze at a bright patch s.h.i.+ning upon the floor, and he lay for some minutes gazing at it, thinking it very beautiful.

He knew it was the moon s.h.i.+ning through flowers--a soft, mellow moonlight which came through a small window.

Then the full rush of thought came, and he started up.

"Awake, dear?"

"Mother!" cried Nic. "Why, have I been to sleep?"

"Yes, my darling, a long time."

"And the tea--dinner?"

"It's quite ready, my dear."

"But--but what time is it?"

"The clock has just struck one, my boy."

"Oh, what a shame!"

"No, my dear; it was nature's great need."

"But I slept like that! What news of father?"

"None, my love," said Mrs Braydon, with a piteous tremor in her voice.

"I ought to have gone," cried the boy angrily.

_Bang_! _crash_! like blows on the wooden sides of the house.

"What's that?" cried Nic, starting to his feet.

"Hi! missus!" came in a harsh voice. "Here they are. What did I say?"

"Come?" cried Mrs Braydon wildly.

"Ay, missus. Our black's just run in to where I was watching beyond the gully. I heard the cracking of Brookes's whip, too, in the still.

There! hear that?" he continued, as there was a faint distant report.

"Master's yonder."