Mac felt the unspoken flattery, and with an introductory cough, and a
great show of indifference, said: "By the way! Perhaps I should have
mentioned it, but the brown mare's down with the puffs since the
showers," and looked around the company for approval.
But the Fizzer was filling the homestead with shoutings:
"Don't apologise," he yelled. "That's nothing! The chestnut's
just broken his leg; can't think how he got here. This'll
save me the trouble of shooting him." Then dropping back
to that chuckling drawl, and re-assuming the ogle, he added:
"The--flats--get--greener--every--year--about--the Elsey," and with a
good-humoured laugh Mac asked if "any other gentleman felt on for a
swop."
Naturally, for a while the conversation was all of horse deals, until,
Happy Dick coming in, it turned as naturally to dog-fights as Peter and
Brown stalked aggressively about the thoroughfare.
Daily we hinted to Happy Dick that Peter's welcome was wearing out, and
daily Happy Dick assured us that he "couldn't keep him away nohow." But
then Happy Dick's efforts to keep him away were peculiar, taking
the form of monologues as Peter trotted beside him towards the
homestead--reiterations of:
"We're not the sort to say nuff, are we, Peter? We'll never say die,
will we, Peter? We'll win if we don't lose, won't we, Peter?" Adding,
after his arrival at the homestead, a subdued "S--SS-s, go it, Peter!"
whenever Brown appeared in the thoroughfare.
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