He can't buck," he added, in tones of the deepest contempt, "and he won't try when I've got a fair hold of him; only goes at it underhanded.

It's up to me to give him a hidin' next time I ride him, I promise you." "Where will he go to ?" said Miss Grant, looking for the vanished steed.
"Won't he run away ?" "He can't get out of the paddick," drawled the youth.

"Let's go up to the house, and get one of the boys to run him in.

He had a go-in this morning with me--the bit came out of his mouth somehow, and he did get to work proper.

He went round and round the paddick at home, with me on him, buckin' like a brumby.