CHAPTER EIGHT.
TO THE BUSH.
For some moments Nic acted involuntarily as he scrambled on his clothes, feeling, as he did, in a confused way that it was his duty to dress, but why and wherefore, he had not the most remote idea.
It was cold and raw, and everything went wrong; and as he could not get himself quite dry, his shirt stuck to him and refused to go on.

Those things which ought to have been in one place had got into another; and even when the cold water had thoroughly wakened him he did not get on very well, and felt ill-humoured, stupid, and out of sorts.
"It's so vexatious starting so soon," thought Nic, as lie thrust brush, comb, and nightshirt into the bag he had nearly packed over night; and at last he opened the door, just as his father called up the stairs: "Come, Nic, my boy: they didn't teach you at school to be quick." "Hush! you'll wake Lady O'Hara," protested the boy.
"I should be puzzled to," replied his father shortly.

"Come in here." "In here" meant the dining-room, where the first person he saw, by the light of the candles standing on the white breakfast-cloth, was their hostess.
Nic was quite awake now, and the last trace of ill-temper passed away as he shook hands.
"I did not expect to see you this morning," he said.
"And did you think I was going to let old friends start without a comfortable breakfast?
Why, it will be days, boy, before you get another." "Days ?" said Nic.
"To be sure, boy.

There is no stage coach for you, and you'll have to keep with your waggon.

These bullocks go about two miles an hour." This was news to Nic, who had been imbued with some kind of notion that he was going to get home that same evening, and that was why his father had started so early.
Sir John entered the room directly after, and the meal was just as if it had been nine o'clock instead of four in the morning; so that the travellers were well prepared, when the doctor rose, to say good-bye, for the cracking of a stock whip and sundry ejaculations and apostrophes to the bullocks to "come on," and "get over," and "pull," were heard outside, where a couple of horses freshly brought round were stamping and pawing the dust, impatient to be off.
The dogs were hurried round from the stables--these being the two collies intended for the doctor--and after many frantic dashes at the horses, they were taken forward toward the waggon, where the bullocks were immediately driven into a state of commotion, and faced round to lower their horns and receive their enemies.
Finally, however, the two excited animals were safely chained to the back of the waggon, which started at once with a great deal of whip cracking and shouting on the part of Brookes, his fellow, Leather, being perfectly silent, and the black nowhere to be seen.
This start having been accomplished, the doctor returned with his son to say their final farewells to the governor and his lady.
"There, good-bye, Nic," cried the latter; "it's only a little way off you live.