Anyhow, he could do most anything but talk.

He could bite to some purpose, drive cattle or sheep, catch a kangaroo, if it wasn't a regular flyer, fight like a bulldog, and swim like a retriever, track anything, and fetch and carry, but bark he wouldn't.

He'd stand and look at dad as if he worshipped him, and he'd make him some sign and off he'd go like a child that's got a message.

Why he was so fond of the old man we boys couldn't make out.
We were afraid of him, and as far as we could see he never patted or made much of Crib.

He thrashed him unmerciful as he did us boys.