'Fetch me my saddle.

The old mare's close by the yard.' Jim fetches the saddle and bridle, and Crib comes after him, out of the verandah, where he had been lying.

Bless you! he knew something was up.
Just like a Christian he was, and nothing never happened that dad was in as he wasn't down to.
'May as well stop till morning, dad,' says Jim, as we walked up to the yard.
'Not another minute,' says the old man, and he whips the bridle out of Jim's hand and walks over to the old mare.

She lifts up her head from the dry grass and stands as steady as a rock.
'Good-bye,' he says, and he shook hands with both of us; 'if I don't see you again I'll send you word if I hear anything fresh.' In another minute we heard the old mare's hoofs proceeding away among the rocks up the gully, and gradually getting fainter in the distance.
Then we went in.

Mother and Aileen had been in bed an hour ago, and all the better for them.