CHAPTER X

MIDNIGHT When the north wind moans thro’ the blind creek courses, And revels with harsh, hot sand, I loose the horses, the wild red horses, I loose the horses, the mad red horses, And terror is on the land! —_Marie E. J. Pitt._ DUSK fell, and the stars came out to ride in a blue-black sky, before the sound of horses’ feet, galloping, floated to the quiet house at Billabong. Mrs. Brown came out on the verandah, one hand at her ear, listening. “…