Both looked as good as dead; but Dad, with a bucket of water, soon brought them round again.
It was scarcely dawn when we began preparing for a start to the races.
Dave, after spending fully an hour trying in vain to pull on Mother's elastic-side boots, decided to ride in his own heavy bluchers.

We went with Dad in the dray.

Mother would n't go; she said she did n't want to see her son get killed, and warned Dad that if anything happened the blame would for ever be on his head.
We arrived at the Overhaul in good time.

Dad took the horse out of the dray and tied him to a tree.

Dave led Bess about, and we stood and watched the shanty-keeper unpacking gingerbeer.