this was the thing whereof he had dreamed.

The bullock was fat and scant of breath. It did not take him very long
to conclude that he had had enough, especially when he heard the hoofs
behind him. It was sad, for close before him was the shade of the trees
and the murmur of the river; but discretion is ever the better part of
valour, particularly if one be not only valorous but fat. He pulled up
short. Betty propped without a second's hesitation, and swung round.

To Cecil it seemed that the world had dropped from under him--and then
risen to meet him. The brown mare turned, in the bush idiom, "on a
sixpence," but Cecil did not turn. He went on. The onlookers had a
vision of the mare chopping round, as duty bade her, to head off the
bullock, while at right-angles a graceful form in correct English
garments hurtled through the air in an elegant curve. When he came
down, which seemed to be not for some time, it was into a shady clump
of wild raspberries--and only those who know the Victorian wild
raspberry know how clinging and intrusive are its hooked thorns. Two
legs kicked wildly. There was no sound.

When the rescuing party extricated Cecil from his involuntary botanical
researches he was a sorry sight. His clothes were torn in many places,
and his face and hands badly scratched, while the red stains of the
raspberries had turned his light tweeds into something resembling an
impressionist sketch. It was perhaps excusable that he had altogether
lost his temper. He burst out in angry abuse of the mare, the bullock,
the raspberry clump, and the expedition in general--anger which the
scarcely concealed grins of the stockmen only served to intensify.
Norah, who had choked with laughter at first, but had become
sympathetic as soon as she saw the boy's face, extracted numerous