“That’s done for a lot of his ole nerfs!” said Billy, darkly. He continued the slaying of the reptile, with the thoroughness dear to every boy.
“ ’Tisn’t hard. You have a hit and see if it is. You only got to keep your hair on an’ hit straight.”
“Can I really?” Rex asked. Gingerly he took the stick and whacked the unpleasant remnant of the snake.
“It isn’t hard, is it? Do you think I killed a bit of him?” he asked, his face glowing.
“Oh, I s’pecs you did,” admitted Billy, who felt he could afford to be generous. “Now you can say you aren’t quite a new-chum any more. Next snake we meet you’ll have to tackle on your own!”
“Shall I, really? I believe I’d be scared.”
“Not you. It’s dead easy. Why, I killed my first when I was six, and you’re nine!” They moved on, Rex feeling that the sum of his out-back experiences had been considerably developed.
The ponies awaited them under a shady light-wood tree, drooping sleepy heads in the hot afternoon stillness. They saddled them and rode on, looking for new worlds to conquer.
“Where’ll we go?” Rex said.
“I d’no. There’s so much smoke about that every place looks the same,” Billy answered. He suddenly broke out in youthful impatience of the long drought. “My word, I’ll be glad when we get rain! It just is sickenin’, seeing the place all burnt up to a cinder with heat and dryness! By rights there ought to be green grass everywhere, all thick ’n’ long, ’n’ simply scrumptious to gallop over. I’ve seen it on these flats many a time so high I could tie it over Merrilegs’ neck!”