“I’ve got to thank you, old chap. You and Billy did men’s work yesterday.”
Rex flushed to the roots of his fair hair.
“Indeed, it wasn’t me, Mr. Weston. It was all Billy!”
“Bosh!” said Billy briefly, without raising his head.
“No, it wasn’t all Billy—though I’ll admit Billy did his share. Billy couldn’t have moved those cattle single-handed. I’m blessed if I know how you got them out as it is.”
“I didn’t think we had any chance myself,” said Billy, sitting up suddenly, “with no dogs, and no stock-whips, nor nothing. So we just went mad ’n’ yelled. And then the jolly old bullocks went mad, too, an’ put their tails in the air an’ galloped. So we got ’em out quite easy. It was no end of fun, if we hadn’t been anxious about the grass.”
“You’re good kids,” said Mr. Weston, laughing. “I must say I’d like to have seen that muster. Billy, my son, have you any idea how dirty your face is?”
“No, really, is it?” Billy asked, greatly surprised. He caught sight of his blackened hands. “Why—look!” He held them out for his family’s benefit. The family shouted with laughter.
“Your face matches them, sonnie,” said his mother. “Go and look at yourself; and then be off to the bathroom as fast as you can. Dinner will be ready as soon as you are.”
At dinner it transpired that Mrs. Weston would like to see the scene of the fire, and that the boys were much aggrieved at the idea of not going out: so it was decided to give the ponies a rest, and Jo drove the whole party out in the big express-waggon, leaving Mr. Weston to sleep in the silent house, in charge of Sarah. They offered to take Sarah too, but the gaunt handmaiden received the invitation with a snort.