editions together. We used to have
a quiet old station-horse saddled, fasten the luncheon-basket to the
pommel with materials for a five o'clock tea, and start off miles away
to the back of the run, about three o'clock in the afternoon, having
previously bribed the shepherd to tell us where the longest grass was
to be found--and this he did very readily, as our going saved him the
trouble of a journey thither, and he was not at all anxious for more
work than he could help. We used to ride alternately, till we got to a
deserted shepherd's hut in such a lovely gully, quite at the far end
of the run! Here we tied up dear quiet old Jack to the remnants of the
fence, leaving him at liberty to nibble a little grass. We never took
off the saddle after the first time, for upon that occasion we found
that our united strength was insufficient to girth it on again
properly, and we made our appearance at home in the most ignominious
fashion--Alice leading Jack, and I walking by his side holding the
saddle _on_. Whenever we attempted to buckle the girths, this artful old
screw swelled himself out with such a long breath that it was impossible
to pull the strap to the proper hole; we could not even get it tight
enough to stay steady, without slipping under him at every step.
However, this is a digression, and I must take you back to the scene of
the fire, and try to make you understand how delightful it was. Alice
said that what made it so fascinating to her was a certain sense of its
being mischief, and a dim feeling that we might get into a scrape. I
don't think I ever stopped to analyse my sensations; fright was the
only one I was conscious of, and yet I liked it so much. When after much
consultation--in which I always deferred to Alice's superior wisdom
and experience--we determined on our line of fire, we set to work
vigorously, and the great thing was to see who could make the finest
blaze. I used to feel very envious if my fire got into a bare patch,
where there were more rocks than tussocks, and languished, whilst
Alice's was roaring and rushing up a hill. We always avoided burning
where a grove of the pretty Ti-ti palms grew; but sometimes there would
be one or two on a hill-side growing by themselves, and then it was most
beautiful to see them burn. Even before the flames reached them their
long delicate leaves felt the wind of the fire and shivered piteously;
then the dry old ones at the base of the stem caught the first spa