roughly, before the skin was drawn together by means of pins passed
through the edges and waxed silk wound round and round from head to
point of the little pins. The skin of the other injuries was closed in
the same way, and then the doctor made a fresh examination of the poor
animal's sprain.

"I can do nothing here," he said. "Nature will put that right. There,
Chris, lead him back to the others, and let him graze and forget his
troubles if he can."

No leading was required, the pony following his master like a dog back
to the pasture, where he began grazing for a few moments, before turning
up his head to whinny loudly, and then lie down in the thick grass,
stretching out legs and head, extended upon the flank.

"Why, Chris," cried Ned, "he's fainting!"

"Or something worse," cried Chris anxiously, as he sank stiffly upon his
knees behind the mustang's head and laid his hand upon the neck.

"No, he's all right," cried Ned eagerly, for the pony on feeling the
touch of his master's hand and hearing his voice, raised his muzzle,
looked at him, and let it sink down again.

"Poor old fellow," said Chris softly, and he stayed there kneeling and
talking quietly to the injured animal, till a shout from the terrace
recalled them back.

Chris gave the soft neck another pat or two, and limped off with his
companion.

"I do hope he's not going to die, Ned," he said, and he looked back when
they had passed the mules, to have the satisfaction of seeing the pony
make an effort to rise, without avail, but on the second trial he stood
up with his legs far apart, gave himself a shake, and then lowered his
head to begin biting feebly at the grass.

"Think he'll get over it, father?" said Chris, as he reached their
stronghold.

"Oh yes. The injuries are not deep; but I'm rather afraid of that
strain. He may go lame; but we shall see. I called you because I want
you to keep out of the sun. Lie down in the shade and rest."

"I don't feel anything much the matter now, father."

"Perhaps not, my boy," said the doctor quietly, "but I want you to be
better still to-morrow, not worse."

Chris, though he did not feel much the matter, to quote his own words,
was fully conscious of being a good deal shaken, and when he lay down
upon the rough bed of sage-brush covered with a blanket, the attitude
was very pleasant to his aching limbs, and he soon began to feel that it
was very restful to lie there watching the sides of the