"Kai-yai, hai-yah! Hai! Hai!! Hai!!!
Kai-yai, hai-yah! Hai! Hai!! Hai!!!"
Behind him came the trader, riding easily his demon-spirited broncho,
and singing in full baritone the patriotic ode dear to Britishers the
world over:
"Three cheers for the red, white and blue!
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!
The army and navy for ever,
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!"
As Cameron went pounding along through the howling blizzard, half
asleep upon his loping, scrambling, slithering pony, with the "Kai-yai,
hai-yah" of Little Thunder wailing down the storm from before him and
the martial notes of the trader behind him demanding cheers for Her
Majesty's naval and military forces, he seemed to himself to be in the
grip of some ghastly nightmare which, try as he might, he was unable to
shake off.
The ghastly unreality of the nightmare was dispelled by the sudden halt
of the bunch of ponies in front.
"All off!" cried the trader, riding forward upon his broncho, which,
apparently quite untired by the long night ride, danced forward through
the bunch gaily biting and slashing as he went. "All off! Get them into
the 'bunk-house' there, Little Thunder. Come along, Mr. Cameron, we have
reached our camp. Take off the bridle and blanket and let your pony go.
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