Wally fancied there was something
of apology in the little shake of his head as he galloped on.
"If I'd time to take you back over that you wouldn't lay a toe on it
again, I believe. Never mind, there's sure to be another."
There was, and the chestnut flew it with never a touch. Maclennan's
paddocks were wide and well cleared--such galloping ground as Wally
dared not waste--and he took full advantage of them, leaving one after
another behind swiftly, to the beat of Shannon's sweeping stride. Fence
after fence the chestnut cleared, taking them cleanly, with his keen
ears pricked; never faltering or flagging as he galloped. Wally sat him
lightly, leaning forward to ease him, cheering him on with voice and
touch. Before him the cloud grew dense and yet more dense; he could feel
its hot breath now, although a bush-covered paddock ahead blocked the
fire itself from his immediate view. He had to choose between picking
his way through the trees or galloping round them; and chose the latter,
since Shannon showed no sign of fatigue. He put the last wire fence
behind him with a sigh of relief. A small farm with easy enough fences
remained to be crossed, and then he swung round the timber at top speed.
Once round it, he should come within view of the Rainhams' house.
He came into the open country, and pulled up with a shout of dismay.
Before him was the long line of timber marking the creek, but between
lay nothing but a rolling cloud of smoke, lit with flashes of flame.
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