If it was n't,
she'd go on strike--put her head down and chew the bit. Then, when you'd
get to work on her with a waddy--which we always did--she'd walk backwards
into the house and frighten Mother, or into the waterhole and dirty the
water. Dad said it was the fault of the cove who broke her in. Dad was a
just man. The "cove" was a union shearer--did it for four shillings and
six pence. Wanted five bob, but Dad beat him down. Anybody else would
have asked a pound.
When Nell DID make up her mind to go, it was with a rush, and, if the
slip-rails were on the ground, she'd refuse to take them. She'd stand and
look out into the lane. You'd have to get off and drag the rails aside
(about twenty, counting broken ones). Then she'd fancy they were up, and
would shake her head and mark time until you dug your heels into her; then
she'd gather herself together and jump high enough for a show--over nothing!
Dave was to ride Nell to town one Christmas to see the sports. He had n't
seen any sports before, and went to bed excited and rose in the middle of
the night to start. He dressed in the dark, and we heard him going out,
because he fell over Sandy and Kate.
Pages:
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168