270 Next to the Ground 



a led horse, a bunch of cattle, a wagon loaded 

 with live stock, or big bright red farm machin- 

 ery, even a mare with a young colt at her side, 

 drew the whole herd to the fence, there to run 

 up and down, peering curiously across, and 

 sometimes showing a wavering inclination to 

 break out. 



Whip-Lash was a fine hunter, but her mas- 

 ter had not always time to follow the hounds. 

 If she heard them in stall she began to neigh 

 and paw ; if running out, she went after them, 

 no matter what fences stood in the way. She 

 kept close upon the dogs, but not too close, 

 and was commonly in at the death. After it, 

 she came home, but not with the guilty and 

 appealing air she wore upon returning from a 

 purposeless breaking out. Instead her head was 

 high — she whinnied when she came to the 

 gate, and stood patiently for it to be opened, 

 though it would have been nothing for her to 

 jump over it. Once inside she looked expect- 

 antly at her master, whisking her tail nattily, as 

 who should say : " You see, I am keeping up 

 our credit, no matter how much trouble it 

 may be." 



Her master never scolded her. He knew 

 what is bred in the bone is bound to come out 

 in the flesh, also in the spirit. Whip-Lash 

 came of a famous hunting strain. Neither did 

 he scold her when she got lonesome and ran 



