We had no draught horse, and if we had
there was neither water-cask, trolly, nor dray; so we humped it--and talk
about a drag! By the time you returned, if you had n't drained the
bucket, in spite of the big drink you'd take before leaving the springs,
more than half would certainly be spilt through the vessel bumping against
your leg every time you stumbled in the long grass. Somehow, none of us
liked carrying water. We would sooner keep the fires going all day
without dinner than do a trip to the springs.
One hot, thirsty day it was Joe's turn with the bucket, and he managed to
get back without spilling very much. We were all pleased because there
was enough left after the tea had been made to give each a drink. Dinner
was nearly over; Dan had finished, and was taking it easy on the sofa,
when Joe said:
"I say, Dad, what's a nater-dog like?" Dad told him: "Yellow, sharp ears
and bushy tail."
"Those muster bin some then thet I seen--I do n't know 'bout the bushy
tail--all th' hair had comed off." "Where'd y' see them, Joe?" we asked.
"Down 'n th' springs floating about--dead."
Then everyone seemed to think hard and look at the tea.
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