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Yarloo saw their glance, and repeated, in a hopeless voice: "Me think they walk longa Musgraves." "What time they go?" asked Mick, thinking that Yarloo must have made a mistake. "What time they start walk?" The boy pointed to the western horizon and then shut his eyes, meaning that the others had started out directly it was dark after sunset last night.
It passed over the mulgas, making them sigh and moan, and then was gone again, leaving the same breathless stillness. Another puff, this time cool and fresh. It also passed away and left the men with dread in their hearts the dread of an unknown, unseen foe. The storm was very near. Sax was watching it so intently that he jumped round suddenly when Yarloo touched him on the arm.
The other was limping slightly. It was Yarloo, the boy who had been thrown from his horse. He had got a job with the drover the morning after the delivery of his midnight message to Saxon Stobart, and, because he was a stranger, his fellow stockmen took a great delight in limping about and imitating him. "So that's how you got your ride," said the drover. "How did you catch the horse?"
Yarloo showed his faithfulness on this occasion when it would have been so much easier for him to run away.
He showed the tea to his companions, but did not give the pot into their eager hands till he had explained what he intended to do. "Me go 'way," he said. The white boys did not pay any attention to this remark. Here was something to drink, and they were parched with thirst. "Me go 'way," repeated Yarloo. "Me come back by'm bye.... P'raps me find um water ... p'raps me find um parakelia."
The native did not catch the meaning of this remark, but he answered the question which Vaughan had in his mind. "By'm bye when it cool," Yarloo pointed to the sky, "we walk little bit." "But Mick told us to stay here," said Vaughan again. "Me think bad black-fella come up to-night," explained Yarloo, with great patience.
His companions did not reply. What did it matter? Why this "perhaps, perhaps" when here was the certainty of at least a mouthful of tea for each? But Yarloo waited for a moment or two, and then went on patiently: "Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time.... White boy stay here ... no go 'way. No go 'way, mind.... Sax," he said timidly, using the name for the first time, "Sax, you no go 'way, eh?"
Yarloo took it instantly and then shook Vaughan's hand also, and, in another minute, he was almost out of sight amongst the ragged scrub. Blacks do not shake hands when they are in their wild state, but they quickly pick up the habit from the white man. Thirst Sax and Vaughan were very thirsty.
They tried to get in amongst the horses again to-night." "Did you hit anyone?" asked Vaughan. "No. I didn't try. I fired into the air to scare them." By this time Yarloo had walked round the horses, turning them towards the middle of the plain, and was squatting down on his haunches, watching. "That's a real good sort of a nigger," said Mick. "He's got more sense than most of them.
He did not tell Mick that the strange nigger who had saved their lives had mentioned the name Boss Stobart. Yarloo came in for his share of praise, and richly did he deserve it. The black-boy sat down with the white men after tea and listened to what was said without making any remarks, and with a stolid expression.
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