How the brute struggled! We stood and listened to him.

After kicking panels of the fence down and smashing every wire in it, he got loose and made off, taking most of it with him.
"That's one wallaby on the wheat, anyway," Dave muttered, and we giggled.

WE understood Dave; but Dad did n't open his mouth.
We lost no time lighting the fires.

Then we walked through the "wheat" and wallabies! May Satan reprove me if I exaggerate their number by one solitary pair of ears--but from the row and scatter they made there were a MILLION.
Dad told Joe, at last, he could go to sleep if he liked, at the fire.
Joe went to sleep--HOW, I don't know.

Then Dad sat beside him, and for long intervals would stare silently into the darkness.