left the place and wandered all these miles? Was it by chance she had struck his hut? Of course, it must have been. No doubt she saw the rainstorm coming, and seeing the hut at the same time hurried in for shelter.
She was not an ordinary working-woman, he saw that, and cudgelled his brains to find out how she came into the country at all.
She must belong to somebody, but to whom?
He knew of women who had lost their reason in solitudes, and had not wondered at it. The country was only fit for blacks, and even they shunned it, the few of them that were left after the white man's march. Had she come along with some squatter, when he had been making a visit to Bathurst, or Bourke, or even Sydney or Melbourne? That was a possible solution, but highly improbable. There was only one large station near enough to this place, from which she could have tramped. Its owner was Craig Bellshaw, of Mintaro Station, and he was not the sort of man to drive a woman away by ill-treatment, quite the contrary.
She stirred. He listened. She was muttering, but he could not catch the words. He got up and leaned over her.
CHAPTER III
A STRANGE SITUATION
He could make nothing of what she said. It was a jumble of incoherent sounds, with no meaning in them. He gathered no information as to how she came there.
"She's ill – delirious. What can I do for her?" he muttered.
He was a soft-hearted man, where women were concerned, and distress, although he had seen much of it, appealed to him. There were no doctors, not even in Boonara. When folks were ill in those parts they had to fight for life as best they could, with a few patent remedies to aid them.
"Fever," he said, "there's no doubt about it, and she has no strength to withstand it. I can't leave her alone. I wish to heaven Bigs, or someone, would come."
He sat by her all night; sometimes he had to hold her down, as she struggled like a bird in his strong grasp. He was very gentle with her. Not one man in a hundred would have credited him with such tenderness. When daylight sprang out suddenly, as it does in these climes, she became quieter. He put his hand on her breast, humming softly. The touch and the sound soothed her. With wonderful patience he remained in this position hour after hour, proving himself a great man, greater than he ever thought or reckoned himself to be. He was hungry, but he did not move. Ping came to the door and wondered why his wants were left unattended. It was unusual. He would have resented it had not the downpour brought up small shoots of green, with marvellous suddenness. He turned away and went nibbling the unaccustomed luxuries. Ping came to the door instinctively. Grass was a thing he had not seen for months. He didn't expect to find it, but as he sniffed its freshness he left the hut contentedly, and Leigh was glad.
"He smells the grass," he thought, "There's more chance of her pulling through now it's cooler." He mixed up the horse and the woman in his thoughts continually. How long he sat there he did not know, but a sound reached him which gave warning that something or someone was approaching. Ping neighed. He knew if it was a rider he would call at his hut. They always paid "ceremonial" visits; it was an event in their lives. A sound of hoofs reached him. It was very welcome; he gave a sigh of relief. He looked round, and saw a horse and rider pull up at his door. It was Jim Benny. At any other time Benny would have been cursed roundly for neglecting his work. Curses were the habitual mode of forcibly expressing disapproval by the men of the fence. But never was man more heartily welcome. Glen Leigh didn't even give a thought as to why Jim Benny came to his hut. It was an uncommon occurrence but he had no time to consider it.
Jim grinned as he put his head in at the door. He was about to speak when he grasped the situation, as far as it was possible for him to so do, lacking all knowledge of the facts.
He was much surprised, as Glen Leigh had been, when he found the woman in his hut.
"Hush," said Glen softly, and Jim crept in on tiptoe.
He stood looking at the woman. His thoughts were much the same as Glen's. The white wan face struck a chord in Jim Benny's nature that had not twanged before. His eyes glistened, then moisture gathered. Presently a couple of drops trickled down his sunburnt face. He put a hand on Glen's shoulder, bent down, and whispered, "How did she come here?"
Glen shook his head.
"She's bad?"
"Fever."
"Poor little thing," said Jim.
Glen lifted his hand from her bosom. She only stirred slightly, then with a sigh became still again. He beckoned Jim to follow him outside. They walked a few yards away, so that the sound of their voices would not disturb her.
"Where the devil were you yesterday?" was Glen's question.
"My horse broke down. I had to bag another, and a pretty brute he is. Look at him," replied Jim pointing to the wretched mass of skin and bone.
"Why have you come here?" asked Glen.
"I thought I'd ride over and explain. I know what you are when you're in a temper," replied Jim.
"That's not the reason."
"Perhaps it isn't. Anyhow, what about her?" and he pointed to the hut.
"Somebody must go to Billy's and get some good brandy for her. It's got to be the best – none of his poison," said Glen.
"In that case you'd better go. It's no good me trying it. He'd think I was lying, and there'd be no getting it out of him. I'll stay with her if you go. Besides my horse is no good. Ping will do the journey in half the time," Jim answered.
Glen looked at him. Jim's face did not move a muscle.
"It's lucky you came," Glen remarked. "Tell me what brought you here."
"Another time," replied Jim hesitatingly.
Glen shrugged his shoulders.
"As you please," he said.
"How did she get here?" asked Jim.
Glen told him how he found her, and Jim Benny was as helpless as himself in solving the problem.
"It's very strange," said Jim. "We've never seen a woman round here before. What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep her until she's pulled round. Then I can find out all about her," returned Glen.
A faint cry came from the hut which caused them to turn round quickly and run back. A strange, weird sight met their eyes. The woman was standing close to the bed. Her hair was down. They noticed it was a beautiful nut-brown, and there was plenty of it. Her arms were stretched out. Her eyes stared glassily. As Glen came in she tottered forward, and he caught her in his arms.
A thrill went through him as he clasped her. Her face was close to his. He felt her breath on his cheek. He drew her tightly towards him, and held her for several minutes. Jim Benny watched him with a queer light in his eyes.
Glen carried her, laying her on his rough bed. She was exhausted with the exertion and remained quite still.
"You'd better go at once," said Jim, "she's bad, very bad."
Glen stood thinking for a few minutes, then asked, "You'll not leave her while I'm gone?"
"No, I'll sit by her as I found you sitting. See?" and he sat on the log, placing
