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"Stags!" replied Rouser Redhead, whose face had already become scarlet with indignation. "Stags, you say, Bartle Flanagan! Arrah, boys, I wondher where is poor Connor O'Donovan by this time?" "I suppose bushin' it afore now," said our friend of the preceding part of the night. "I bushed it myself for a year and a half, but be Japurs I got sick of it.
Below the spring in the black mud softened by the overflow were the tracks of wild turkey and the occasional print of a lynx pad. The bush had been cleared from around the spring, and the ashes of an old camp-fire marked the spot where Lorry had often "bushed over-night" on his way to the cabin. Lorry dismounted and tied the pack-horses.
He turned to Morey. "They were certainly reasonable in driving us from their cities; experience has taught them that it's the safest way. A good offense is always the best defense. "But experience has taught me that, unlike Torlos, I have to eat. I wonder if it might not be a good idea to get a little rest too I'm bushed." "Good idea," agreed Morey. "I'll ask Wade to stand guard while we sleep.
From where we are, the prospect is wild and weird, with the white bed of the great lake sweeping nearly the whole southern horizon. The country near the lake consists of open sandhills, thickly bushed and covered with triodia; farther back grew casuarinas and mulga scrubs. It was long past the middle of the day when I descended from the hill.
Philip had never travelled as far as Lake Nyalong, but Picaninny Jack told him that he had once been there, and that it was a beautiful country. He tried to find it at another time, but got bushed on the wrong side of the lake; now he believed there was a regular track that way if Philip could only find it.
At that moment the father came out of the hole in the bank. He wore no hat, and his thick, iron-grey hair was brushed straight back from his forehead. It was so long that it bushed out behind his ears, and made him look like the old portraits I remembered in Virginia. He was tall and slender, and his thin shoulders stooped.
"Clay was worth a thousand of them!" Barkwell got down and seized the book, watching Trevison closely. "Look here, Boss," he said, as Trevison ran to his horse and threw himself into the saddle; "you're bushed, mighty near " If Trevison heard his first words he had paid no attention to them.
They talked by the hour upon all sorts of themes, the growth of the tree, the habits of wild animals, the migration of seeds, the succession of oak and pine, not to mention theology, and the mysteries of the supernatural. I recall the bearing of Old Phelps, when, several years ago, he conducted a party to the summit of Mount Marcy by the way he had "bushed out."
John at this point could walk a bit and was feeling a lot better. John had previously water fasted for 30 days and knew the drill very well. So we stocked up the vitamin C bottle by his bed and went to town for the weekend to stay in a motel and see a movie. As they say in the Canadian backwoods, we were bushed. John had promised to be good.
The hay may be stacked in the fields when gathered, or put into small barns built for hay storage alone; and the manure, scattered over the fields by the cattle, as they are fed from either of them, may be knocked to pieces with the dung-beetle, in the spring, or harrowed and bushed over the ground; and with the very small quantity of labor required in all this, such practice will be more economical than any other which can be adopted.
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