Page:On Our Selection.djvu/210

196 in the crupper—also Dad's handiwork. He hesitated and commenced a remark. But Dad was restless; Paddy Maloney anxious (as regarded himself); besides, the storm was coming.

Dad said: "Damn it, what are y' fraid o', boy? Thatll hold—jump on."

Paddy said: "Now, Dave, while I've 'is 'ead round."

Joe (just arrived with the cattle-pup) chipped in.

He said: "Wot, is he fuf-fuf-f uf-f-rikent of him, Dad? "

Dave heard them. A tear like a hailstone dropped out of his eye.

"It's all damn well t' talk," he fired off; "come in and ride th' horse then, if y' s' game!"

A dead silence.

The cattle-pup broke away from Joe and strolled into tho yard. It barked feebly at Callaghan, then proceeded to worry his heels. It seemed to take Callaghan for a calf. Callaghan kicked it up against the rails. It must have taken him for a cow then.

Dave's blood was up. He was desperate. He grabbed the reins roughly, put his foot in the stirrup, gripped the side of the pommel, and was on before you could say "Woolloongabba."

With equal alacrity, Paddy let the colt's head go and made tracks, chuckling. The turn things had taken delighted him. Excitement (and pumpkin) was all that kept Paddy alive. Bat Callaghan did n't budge—at least not until Dave