"I should have sucked the poison from the bite, and then I should have given you ammonia—I always carry it with me in the bush"—he touched his coat pocket, "and in the long run you would not be very much the worse."
"And you would have saved my life?"
"Yes, I suppose so, always allowing that it was a deadly snake, and that it had bitten you."
They did not speak for some time. Elsie was pale. She moved on hurriedly, looking to the right and left as she picked her steps. They had nearly got to the bottom of the ridge when Blake gave a "Coo-ee." There was no answer. "They are a long way behind us," he said, coolly. "We have come down by a short cut."
"But where are the horses? Perhaps we have come down quite wrong." Elsie looked uneasy.
"No, we have not. It is they who have gone out of their way. The horses are down there, and he pointed a little to the right.
"How do you know?"
"Oh, I know the country. You will see." He called again, this time with a totally different note from the ordinary Australian "Coo-ee." It was a strange wild sound, something like the cry of a bird, a most peculiar and wailing sound.
"They won't know that. What an odd Coo-ee!" exclaimed Elsie. As she spoke, the cry was repeated, and from the direction which Blake had indicated.
"That is Pompo," he said. "Pompo knows my call. Now, Miss Valliant, sit down on this log and rest till the others come. They will coo-ee fast enough. There, listen! Didn't I tell you?"
And from above and a good way off, to the left, there sounded Ina's coo-ee—then another, in a man's voice.
"Sit down," said Blake. "You are panting, and you are quite pale. A few minutes ago you had the loveliest flush imaginable."
Elsie flushed now. She did not sit down, but leaned
