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HEN the bailiff came and took away the cows and horses, and completely knocked the bottom out of Dad's land scheme, Dad did n't sit in the ashes and sulk. He was n't that kind of person. He did at times say he was tired of it all, and often he wished it far enough, too! But, then, that was all mere talk on Dad's part. He loved the selection. To every inch—every stick of it—he was devoted. 'T was his creed. He felt certain there was money in it—that out of it would come his independence. Therefore, he did n't roll up and, with Mother by the hand and little Bill on his back, stalk into town to hang round and abuse the Bush. He walked up and down the yard thinking and thinking. Dad was a man with a head.

He consulted Mother and Dave, and together they thought more.

"The thing is," Dad said, "to get another horse to finish the bit of ploughing. We've got one; Anderson will lend the grey mare, I know."

He walked round the room a few times.