Page:On Our Selection.djvu/100

86 "Well, what's it to be—six-ten or nothing?" renewed Donovan.

"All right, then," Dad replied, demurely, 'take him!"

The money was paid there and then and receipts drawn up. Then, saying that Mick would come for the horse on the day following, and after offering a little gratuitous advice on seed-wheat and pig-sticking, the Donovans left.

Mick came the next day, and Dad showed him Farmer, under the bushes. He was n't dead, because when Joe sat on him he moved. "There he is," said Dad, grinning. Mick remained seated on his horse, bewildered-looking, staring first at Farmer, then at Dad.

"Well?" Dad remarked, still grinning. Then Mick spoke feelingly.

"You swindling old crawler!" he said, and galloped away. It was well for him he got a good start.

For long after that we turned the horses and cows into the little paddock at night, and if ever the dog barked Dad would jump up and go out in his shirt.

We put them back into the big paddock again, and the first night they were there two cows got out and went away, taking with them the chain that fastened the slip-rails. We never saw or heard of them again; but Dad treasured them in his heart. Often, when he was thoughtful, he would ponder out plans for getting even with the Donovans—we