Poor old Jim! He was born good and intended to be so, like mother.
Like her, his luck was dead out in being mixed up with a lot like ours.
One day we were out at the back making some lambing yards.

We were about twenty miles from the head station and had about finished the job.

We were going in the next day.

We had been camping in an old shepherd's hut and had been pretty jolly all by ourselves.

There was first-rate feed for our horses, as the grass was being saved for the lambing season.