John Lawler tried to persuade her to go; but not energetically. And then the couple watched on, shivering at every sound, until there came, from a distance, the tramp of a horse, at a slow weary pace; and at last one of the settler's own beasts made its way into the yard, and then into the familiar stable by the side. Lawler went out, to find that the animal was saddled and bridled; but on leading it into the yard, he found that it halted on one of its forelegs. "Must have fallen lame," he muttered; "and Sam has gone on, thinking the poor brute would find its way back." Another hour's watching, and then came again the slow pacing of a horse; but this time there was a man leading it; and upon his coming up, Lawler heard that the horse had stumbled in the dark, fallen, and thrown his rider heavily, the poor fellow having been hardly able to make his way back to the station. Then came more watching, hour after hour, till daylight began to chase away the dim shadows of night. John Lawler's spirits rose as the sun sent its warm rays once more over the brightened earth; but he shuddered as he thought that perhaps that night the home that he had been years in winning from the wilderness might become a blackened ruin. Hour after hour passed but no gathering party of neighbours clustered round; and though Lawler climbed from time to time the hill behind his house, there was no sign of Sam. After all these hours, surely, he thought, some neighbours might have come down to his help. Supposing that his place had been attacked, it would have been by this time a heap of blood-stained ashes. His brow knit as he watched, here for enemies, there for friends, with none to meet his eye, and the lines on his brow told the inquietude of his mind. At last, maddened with anxiety, he summoned his wife, had the two lamed beasts and Mr Meadow's pony brought out, and prepared to mount the two women, and flee farther inland, to where there were friends. "I'd stop and fight to the last gasp for my bit of property, Nell," said Lawler to his wife, "if it wasn't for you and the child." "No, no; let's go," she replied, as if fearing that he might stay. The few arrangements being made, the little caravan had prepared to start, when a cheery shout from the men made Lawler shade his eyes, and his heart leapt up as he saw two mounted men, each carrying a gun, come cantering up. "Hallo!" exclaimed one. "Just off out--pilgrimage to Egypt, eh? And Mrs Lee, too! How are you all? Bad job, though; for we wanted a rest and feed for the horses. S'pose we can have that all the same?" John Lawler laid his hand upon the saddle of the speaker, and looking wonderingly in his face, he said: "What! didn't the news reach you last night?" "News?" echoed the other. Lawler drew him down, and whispered in his ear, so that the drooping woman upon the horse should not hear again of the horrors that had devastated her home.