that no cattle-driver touches—and of course the cattle do not like it.
"May I be flogged with my own pad-chains! Who 'd have thought of two big lumps like those losing their heads?" said Billy.
"Never mind. I 'm going to look at this man. Most of the white men, I know, have things in their pockets," said the troop-horse.
"I ll leave you, then. I can't say I 'm over-fond of 'em myself. Besides, white men who have n't a place to sleep in are more than likely to be thieves, and I 've a good deal of Government property on my back. Come along, young 'un, and we 'll go back to our lines. Good-night, Australia! See you on parade to-morrow, I suppose. Good-night, old Hay-bale!—try to control your feelings, won't you? Good-night, Two Tails! If you pass us on the ground to-morrow, don't trumpet. It spoils our formation."
Billy the mule stumped off with the swaggering limp of an old campaigner, as the troop-horse's head came nuzzling into my breast, and I gave him biscuits; while Vixen, who is a most conceited little dog, told him fibs about the scores of horses that she and I kept.
"I 'm coming to the parade to-morrow in my dog-cart," she said. "Where will you be?"
