“You get laughed at by gun-bullocks. I hope you like it, young ’un.”
The young mule’s teeth snapped, and I heard him say something about not being afraid of any beefy old bullock in the world; but the bullocks only clicked their horns together and went on chewing.
“Now, don’t be angry after you’ve been afraid. That’s the worst kind of cowardice,” said the troop-horse. “Anybody can be forgiven for being scared in the night, I think, if they see things they don’t understand. We’ve broken out of our pickets, again and again, four hundred and fifty of us, just because a new recruit got to telling tales of whip-snakes at home in Australia till we were scared to death of the loose ends of our head-ropes.”
“That’s all very well in camp,” said Billy; “I’m not above stampeding myself, for the fun of the thing, when I haven’t been out for a day or two; but what do you do on active service?”