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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"

He brought up against a big boulder, struggled
to rise and then lay still.
* * * * *
Presently Cecil came limping to him, white and angry.
"Get up, you brute!" he said, kicking him. When there was no response,
he took the bridle, jerking it. Bobs' head gave a little at every jerk,
but that was all.
Between rage and fear, Cecil lost his head. He kicked the pony
savagely; and finding that useless, sought a stick and thrashed him as
he lay. Once Bobs struggled, but only his head and shoulders came up,
and presently they fell back again. Cecil gave it up at last, and left
him alone, limping down to the gully and out of sight. He sat down on a
log for a long while, until the sun grew hot. Then he pulled his hat
over his eyes and set off towards home.
Bobs did not know he had gone. He lay quite still.


CHAPTER XVII

ON THE HILLSIDE

Never again, when the soft winds blow,
We shall ride by the river.
G. ESSEX EVANS.

Wally came into breakfast with a rush and a scramble, bearing traces of
a hasty toilet. At the table Norah and Jim were eating solemnly, with
expressions of deep disapproval. They did not raise their eyes as Wally
entered.
"Awfully sorry!" said he. "You've no idea of the difficulties I've had
to overcome, Norah, and all along of him!" indicating Jim with a jerk
of his head.


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