The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

240 THE FOOT OF TIME
stumbling with weakness as he tried to stagger on
—ever on. Good enough! He swooped, but Bruce's
sweeping arm caught him. The carrion, of course,
had made for Bruce's eyes. Bruce's arm had lost its
power, but a human arm is heavy. It caught that
crow across its Plimsoll mark and broke its spine,
which gave pause to the others. The sight of their
leader going back to hell from whence he came was
discouraging and disheartening. The crows paused;
there was plenty of time. The eagle was a nuisance,
he might interfere. They looked up at him.
He had been poised, mighty wings outspread,
motionless relatively to the earth, but not
motionless in air speed. The air currents passing
under past him were acting precisely as flying at low
speed. At every lull the creature was compelled
to change position, to drop, swoop a trifle, to steal
from gravity pace, then utilise that pace to ascend,
until with the return of the ten-mile breeze he was
given a relative ten-mile air speed with which to
retain his earth position.
But the bird was acting strangely and uneasily
. . . . as though in fear.
CHAPTER XXV.
"PITY IS AKIN TO LOVE."
EARLY on the morning following Bruce Swinton's
visit to Orange, and while he was struggling
aimlessly through the mountain bush, Edith took
train and went down to see her Aunt Florence
Tooth at Manly. But first the girl crossed from Circular
Quay, Sydney, to Vaucluse, for she had a
mind to pay a brief visit to Clare. Edith wanted
to unburden herself—to explain, devoid of all detail,
her decision not to marry Bruce.
Clare, fortunately, was at home—Clare and her
great hound Bruno, the barometer of the household
so far as visitors were concerned. Now Bruno was
a singularly good judge of character, too dignified
and stately to demean himself by attack, but a
character worthy of respect for all that. At the
worst, Bruno would curl one lip, teeth revealing;
it was more than enough, particularly since it was
accompanied by a roll of distant thunder—menacing.
Unwelcome tramps made speedy exit unharmed
except in morale, while tradesmen would
deferentially and smilingly hand the monster their
basket of fruit, flesh or fowl, which Bruno—if in
the mood—would transport inside. If unwilling to
act porter, no harm was done. The hound knew an