Those must have been blacks, a strong party of them; and it was evident that they had not been seen up at the camp by Leather, or he would have warned him of their presence.
"Would he ?" thought Nic.

"He's a disagreeable, surly fellow, and I don't wonder, at Brookes bullying him so much.

What shall I do?
Perhaps after all they're gone.

Oh!" That last was a low, deep expiration of the breath, for Nic was having his first lesson in the clever cunning of the blackfellows.

They were not gone, but clustered together just on the other side of the water-hole, some sixty yards away, right in sight as he peered between the thick branches of the wattle.
Nic felt fascinated for the moment, and was ready to ask himself whether it was real or a trick of his imagination.