ny miles, and laid a hand on his neck.

"He ain't much to look at," said the drover, speaking slowly and
awkwardly, "but he's white when he's wanted." And just before the coach
rattled off, the man of few words leant down from the box and nodded
impressively, and repeated, "Yes, he's white when he's wanted."

We didn't trouble to give the new horse a name. Station horses are
generally called after the man from whom they are bought. "Tom Devine",
"The Regan mare", "Black M'Carthy" and "Bay M'Carthy" were among the
appellations of our horses at that time. As we didn't know the drover's
name, we simply called the animal "The new horse" until a still newer
horse was one day acquired. Then, one of the hands being told to take
the new horse, said, "D'yer mean the _new_ new horse or the _old_ new
horse?"

"Naw," said the boss, "not the new horrse--that bay horrse we bought
frae the drover. The ane he said was white when he's wanted."

And so, by degrees, the animal came to be referred to as the horse
that's white when he's wanted, and at last settled down to the definite
name of "White-when-he's-wanted".

White-when-he's-wanted didn't seem much of an acquisition. He was sent
out to do slavery for Greenhide Billy, a boundary-rider who plumed
himself on having once been a cattle-man. After a week's experience of
"White", Billy came in to the homestead disgusted. The pony was so lazy
that he had to build a fire under him to get him to move, and so rough
that it made a man's nose bleed to ride him more than a mile. "The boss
must have been off his head to give fifteen notes for such a cow."

M'Gregor heard this complaint. "Verra weel, Mr. Billy," said he, hotly,
"ye can juist tak' ane of the young horrses in yon paddock, an' if he
bucks wi' ye an' kills ye, it's yer ain fault. Ye're a cattleman--so ye
say--dommed if ah believe it. Ah believe ye're a dairy-farmin' body frae
Illawarra. Ye ken neither horrse nor cattle. Mony's the time ye never
rode buckjumpers, Mr. Billy"--and with this parting-shot the old man
turned into the house, and White-when-he's-wanted came back to the head
station.

For a while he was a sort of pariah. He used to yard the horses, fetch
up the cows, and hunt travelling sheep through the run. He really was
lazy and rough, and we all decided that Billy's opinion of him was
correct, until the day came to make one of our periodical raids on the
wild horses in the hills at the back of the run.

Every now