“Well, that’s all right, then.” Margot, evidently realizing that here was as much of an apology as anyone had ever extracted from Stella, and being quite incapable of bearing any grudge, turned. “Only, if you’re going to say that it’s gipsy lies, you needn’t listen; because it’s not. Mother was there, and she saw it.” Margot swallowed before she went on.
“It was in the Bush once,” she said. “We were driving along one of those ‘corduroy roads,’ you know; that’s what they call them, because they’re made of logs laid side by side. Awfully jolty; we were in one of dad’s buggies. And we came upon”—Margot brushed her hair vigorously—“a horse, you know. It had got its master with it, of course; but it had fallen down. It was done-up and down-and-out; and oh!... I can’t tell you.” Margot’s voice shook.
“Go on,” begged Josy.
“Well, then, even dad and Long Jake couldn’t do anything. And its master said it had been lying there for hours. They were a long way from a water-hole, so he couldn’t get it a drink; but it wasn’t a drink it wanted, really, for we’d got water, and we gave it some. Its master was just a ‘sundowner’ man—travelling on to the next farm for work; it was shearing-time. And he’d picked up the horse cheap at a sale. Its previous owner had died, you see. And this man said there was nothing to do but just to leave it there, and mother said, ‘Oh, no!’ And I....” Margot stopped. “Well, it simply couldn’t be left; and it wouldn’t get up. And dad and Long Jake did everything they could, and then....”
“Oh, hurry, do! Did it recover, after all?” begged Josy, half in tears herself.
“Listen! It simply couldn’t move; I don’t really think it could, until.... Suddenly, what do you think Long Jake did? The horse was lying, you know, right across the road, and Long Jake knelt down beside it. And he put both his arms round its neck.” Margot’s voice was shaky. “And ... just held it. The sort of way mother might have held me, you know, if I were to cry—only, of course, I never do. And then he put his lips to its ears and just whispered. And, after a few minutes, the horse—Oh!” Margot gave a little, gaspy laugh. “It was like a fairy tale, only better. The horse twitched its ears and opened its shut eyes, and it gave a little whinnying sound. It understood. Long Jake went on whispering and stroking its head; yes, and kissing it. And then, suddenly”—a tear rolled down Margot’s cheek, though she did not know it—“it gave a kind of shake and tried to get up. They all helped it, and it struggled up and stood there, and—it sort of smiled!—mother said she saw that, too—and it threw up its darling head and started again.”
No one in the dormitory said a word for a few minutes, and Margot began to brush her hair steadily.
“I’d have ... bought that horse,” said Josy. “I bet its owner had been unkind to it.”
“He hadn’t. No, he hadn’t. He was quite kind, but he didn’t understand—that’s what Long Jake said afterwards—that the horse was missing its old master who had died, and that it was feeling unhappy because of that,” said Margot. “I dare say the horse has grown fond of him by now.”
“But however did Long Jake find it out?” burst in Stella doubtfully.