You've seen a dog that's been chained up.

Well, when he's let loose, don't he go chevying and racing about over everything and into everything that's next or anigh him?
He'll jump into water or over a fence, and turn aside for nothing.

He's mad with joy and the feeling of being off the chain; he can't hardly keep from barking till he's hoarse, and rushing through and over everything till he's winded and done up.

Then he lies down with his tongue out and considers it all over.
Well a man's just like that when he's been on the chain.

He mayn't jump about so much, though I've seen foreign fellows do that when their collar was unbuckled; but he feels the very same things in his heart as that dog does, you take my word for it.
So, as I said, though I was sitting on a horse all that long cold winter's night through, and had to mind my eye a bit for the road and the rocks and the hanging branches, I felt my heart swell that much and my courage rise that I didn't care whether the night was going to turn into a snowstorm like we'd been in Kiandra way, or whether we'd have a dozen rivers to swim, like the head-waters of the M'Alister, in Gippsland, as nearly drowned the pair of us.