Ned's tail cracked. Dad hit him between the ears. The
tail cracked again. A piece of it came off; then Ned stumbled and went on
his head. "What the DEVIL----!" Dad said, looking round. But only the
young fellow was laughing.
Nell was different from Ned. She was a bay, with yellow flanks and a lump
under her belly; a bright eye, lop ears, and heavy, hairy legs. She was a
very wise mare. It was wonderful how much she know. She knew when she
was wanted; and she would go away the night before and get lost. And she
knew when she was n't wanted; then she'd hang about the back-door licking
a hole in the ground where the dish-water was thrown, or fossicking at the
barn for the corn Dad had hidden, or scratching her neck or her rump
against the cultivation paddock slip-rails. She always scratched herself
against those slip-rails--sometimes for hours--always until they fell down.
Then she'd walk in and eat. And how she COULD eat!
As a hack, Nell was unreliable. You could n't reckon with certainty on
getting her to start. All depended on the humour she was in and the
direction you wished to take--mostly the direction. If towards the
grass-paddock or the dam, she was off helter-skelter.
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