A thought crossed my mind that it might be the Enemy of Souls, in his shape, going to carry us off for doing such a piece of wickedness.
'Looks queer, doesn't it ?' says father, going to the brink and kicking down a boulder, that rolled and crashed down the steep mountain side, tearing its way through scrub and heath till it settled down in the glen below.

'It won't do for a man's horse to slip, will it, boy?
And yet there's a track here into a fine large paddock, open and clear, too, where I'm going to put these cattle into.' I stared at him, without speaking, thinking was he mad.
'No! the old man isn't mad, youngster,' he said; 'not yet, at least.

I'm going to show you a trick that none of you native boys are up to, smart as you think yourselves.' Here he got off the old mare, and began to lead her to the edge of the mountain.
'Now, you rally the cattle well after me,' he said; 'they'll follow the old mare after a bit.

I left a few cows among 'em on purpose, and when they "draw" keep 'em going well up, but not too fast.' He had lengthened the bridle of the mare, and tied the end of a light tether rope that he had round her neck to it.

I saw her follow him slowly, and turn down a rocky track that seemed to lead straight over a bluff of the precipice.
However, I gave the word to 'head on'.