He took off his hat, and let the breeze, which rustled up from the south, ripple through his hair. The cool air was refreshing, and he felt better. He wouldn't think of his troubles, but let them blow off and be carried away for ever. He felt soothed for a minute or two; but they would come back to roost, and brood, and hatch, in spite of all he could do.
"Confound Bond!"
He had just got the words out, when a snake glided across the track and caused his horse to shy. Alec made a savage cut with his stock-whip at the reptile, and left it writhing in the dust with a broken back.
"Wish it were Bond!" he said.
He dug his spur into the horse, and went cantering down the hill, with a flush on his face; for he was ashamed of his evil thoughts, and repented of his violence to the horse.
"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" he said, patting the beast's neck, "I am sorry."
He felt better now. The fit was going off. He hoped for the best, and trusted time would cure him of the distemper. If only Bond did not cross his path all would be well. He would be as a red rag to a bull, and he would shun him as a mad dog shuns water.
He arrived at Glengo about nine o'clock, glad to be home again. He tried to wear a smiling face, but could not succeed. His mother met him at the door, and threw up her hands.
"Why, Alec! You must have been early afoot. Are they all well at Borombyee? What's amiss that you are home so early? Has pleuro broken out among the cattle, or scab in the sheep, or is the country on fire?"