CHAPTER X

BILLABONG “WILL it be fine, Murty?” The person addressed made no answer for a moment, continuing to stare at the western horizon with his eyes wrinkled and his face anxious. He turned presently; a tall, grizzled man, with the stooping shoulders and the slightly bowed legs that are the heritage of those who spend nine-tenths of their time in the saddle. “Sorra a one of me knows,” he said. “It’s one of thim unchancy days that might be annything. Have ye looked at the glass?” “It’s mejum,” replied the first speaker. S…