“Only playing tricks on the donkeys, father, down in Kent.”
“Of course. That’s it! Why, Nic, I have only got to polish you. Ready?”
“Yes, father.”
“Then let’s canter on.”
Oddly enough—paradoxically as it may seem—that tumble on to the elastic bush took away all Nic’s nervousness, and now he began to enjoy the delightful motion of the easy-paced nag, with the wind fanning his cheeks, the sun seeming to flash by him, and the soreness about the knees forgotten.
Everything about looked bright and glorious; and when, about eleven o’clock, they cantered up to the midday halting-place in a clump of gums, where the oxen had just been unyoked, Brookes and Leather stopped from their tasks to stare, and the black was so surprised that he forgot to stand on one leg, but watched the horsemen with wide-open eyes, standing upon two.