The horse
almost screamed as he pulled that extra last ounce which he did
not know was in him. The thin end of the log left the dirt and
rasped on dry gravel. The butt ground round like a buffalo in his
wallow. Quick as an axe-cut, Lewknor snapped on his five
horses, and sliding, trampling, jingling, and snorting, they had
the whole thing out on the heather.
'Dat's the very first time I've knowed you lay into Sailor - to
hurt him,' said Lewknor.
'It is,' said Cattiwow, and passed his hand over the two wheals.
'But I'd ha' laid my own brother open at that pinch. Now we'll
twitch her down the hill a piece - she lies just about right - and get
her home by the low road. My team'll do it, Bunny; you bring the
tug along. Mind out!'
He spoke to the horses, who tightened the chains. The great log
half rolled over, and slowly drew itself out of sight downhill,
followed by the wood-gang and the timber-tug. In half a minute
there was nothing to see but the deserted hollow of the torn-up
dirt, the birch undergrowth still shaking, and the water draining
back into the hoof-prints.
'Ye heard him?' Simon Cheyneys asked. 'He cherished his
horse, but he'd ha' laid him open in that pinch.
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