it was hottish weather; the old dog had been `heeling' him up too,
for he was bleeding up to the hocks, and the end of his tail was bitten off.
He was a savage old wretch was Crib. Like all dogs that never bark
-- and men too -- his bite was all the worse.

`Go and get the brands -- confound you -- don't stand there
frightening the cattle,' says father, as the tired cattle,
after smelling and jostling a bit, rushed into the yard.
`You, Jim, make a fire, and look sharp about it. I want to brand
old Polly's calf and another or two.' Father came down to the hut
while the brands were getting ready, and began to look at the harness-cask,
which stood in a little back skillion. It was pretty empty;
we had been living on eggs, bacon, and bread and butter for a week.

`Oh, mother! there's such a pretty red calf in the yard,' I said,
`with a star and a white spot on the flank; and there's a yellow steer
fat enough to kill!'

`What!' said mother, turning round and looking at father with her eyes staring
-- a sort of dark blue they were -- people used to say mine and Jim's
were the same colour -- and her brown hair pushed back off her face,
as if she was looking at a ghost. `Is it doing that again you are,
after all you promised me, and you so nearly caught -- after the last one?
Didn't I go on my knees to ye to ask ye to drop it and lead a good life,
and didn't ye tell me ye'd never do the like again? And the poor
innocent children, too, I wonder ye've the heart to do it.'

It came into my head now to wonder why the sergeant and two policemen
had come down from Bargo, very early in the morning, about three months ago,
and asked father to show them the beef in his cask, and the hide