included.

Dad went straightaway to Smith's place, and told Smith he was a dirty,
mean, despicable swindler--or something like that. Smith smiled. Dad put
one leg through the slip-rails and promised Smith, if he'd only come along,
to split palings out of him. But Smith did n't. The instinct of
self-preservation must have been deep in that man Smith. Then Dad went
home and said he would shoot the ---- horse there and then, and went
looking for the gun. The horse died in the paddock of old age, but Dad
never ploughed with him again.

Dad followed the plough early and late. One day he was giving the horses
a spell after some hours' work, when Joe came to say that a policeman was
at the house wanting to see him. Dad thought of the roan mare, and Smith,
and turned very pale. Joe said: "There's "Q.P." on his saddle-cloth;
what's that for, Dad?" But he did n't answer--he was thinking hard.
"And," Joe went on, "there's somethin' sticking out of his pocket--Dave
thinks it'll be 'ancuffs." Dad shuddered. On the way to the house Joe
wished to speak about the policeman, but Dad seemed to have lock-jaw.
When he found the officer of the law only wanted to know the number of
stock he owned, he talked freely--he was delighted. He said, "Yes, sir,"
and "No, sir," and "Jusso, sir," to everything the policeman said.

Dad wished to learn some law. He said: "Now, tell me this: supposing a
horse gets into my paddock--or into your paddock--and I advertise that
horse and nobody claims him, can't I put my brand on him?" The policeman
jerked back his head and stared at the shingles long enough to recall all
the robberies he had committed, and said: "Ye can--that's so--ye can."

"I knew it," answered Dad; "but a lawyer in town told Maloney, over there,