Two years afterwards, when Philip was riding through the bush, Bob rode up alongside, and after a while said: 

“Well, Mister, how do you like that filly I sold you?”

“Very well indeed.  She is a capital roadster and stockhorse.”

“Does she ever throw you?”

“Never.  What makes you ask?”

“Well, that’s queer.  The fact is I sold her to you because I could not ride her.  Every time I mounted, she slung me a buster.”

“I see, Bob, you meant well, didn’t you?  But she never yet slung me a buster; she is quieter than a lamb, and she will come to me whenever I whistle, and follow me like a dog.”

Philip’s first dog was named Sam.  He was half collie and half bull dog, and was therefore both brave and full of sagacity.  He guarded the hut and the other domestics during school hours, and when he saw Philip coming up the hill, he ran to meet him, smiling and wagging his tail, and reported all well.  The other dog was only a small pup, a Skye terrier, like a bunch of tow, a present from Tommy Traddles.  Pup’s early days were made very miserable by Maggie, the magpie.  That wicked bird used to strut around Philip while he was digging in the garden, and after filling her crop with worms and grubs, she flapped away on one wing and went round the hut looking for amusement.  She jumped on Pup’s back, scratched him with her claws, pecked at his skull, and pulled locks of wool out of it, the poor innocent all the while yelping and howling for mercy.  Sam never helped Pup, or drove Maggie away; he was actually afraid of her, and believed she was a dangerous witch.  Sometimes she pecked at his tail, and he dared not say a word, but sneaked away, looking sideways at her, hanging down his ears, and afraid to say his tail was his own.  Joey, the parrot, watched all that was going on from his cage, which was hung on a hook outside the hut door.  Philip tried to teach Joey to whistle a tune:  “There is na luck aboot the hoose, There is na luck at a’,” but the parrot had so many things to attend to that he never had time to finish the tune.  He was, indeed, very vain and flighty, sidling along his perch and saying:  “Sweet pretty Joey, who are you, who are you?  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!” wanting everybody to take notice and admire him.  When Maggie first attacked poor Pup, scratched his back, pecked at his head, and tore locks of wool out of him, and Pup screamed pitifully to all the world for help, Joey poked his head between the wires of his cage, turned one eye downwards, listened to the language, and watched the new performance with silent ecstacy.  He had never heard or seen anything like it in the whole course of his life.  Philip used to drive Maggie away, take up poor Pup and stroke him, while Maggie, the villain, hopped around, flapping her wings and giving the greatest impudence.