Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/55

Two days later Tony got into his first really serious “row.”

He had been so careful before that there had never been much for Baldwin to attack, but this morning the blacksmith had his leg crushed against the anvil by a struggling horse. It was a bad break, apparently, and the man was in awful agony. Tony was sent for the doctor, and he took the first available horse, which unfortunately happened to be Robertson’s favourite thoroughbred, Childe Harold. When the doctor had been called, Tony rode slowly home; he had covered the twenty miles to the township in a very short time and he wanted to spare the horse. When he reached the home paddock he met the doctor’s buggy on its return journey, and saw the manager waiting at the gate. He braced himself and rode up in answer to Baldwin’s shout.

“Get off that horse.”

Tony dismounted and stood very still, his hand on Childe Harold’s bay shoulder. He was afraid. Baldwin was evidently very angry; his whole face was congested and there was a white dint at each side of his nose—danger signals; Tony had seen them once or twice before.

“Now tell me what the devil you mean by taking Childe Harold without so much as asking leave, and riding the legs off him? Wasn’t there another horse that’d do for your games? Anybody’d think that the station belonged to you, by God! Look at that horse—look at him, now! He’s grey with sweat. D’you think I’m going to stand by and let you play the fool at Mr. Robertson’s expense? A nice row he’d kick up if he came back and found I’d let you hack his thoroughbreds about as if they were butchers’ ponies—you—a little———”

Tony's jaw stuck out. “The Boss wouldn't mind,” he said sullenly. “I had to go for the doctor in a hurry and Childe Harold was the only horse that was in.”

“You needn't try and lie your way out of it. And what