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Updated: May 7, 2025
Just before him stood, by a high five-barred gate, a pensive gray cob attached to a neat-looking gig. The bridle was loose on the cob's neck. The animal was evidently accustomed to stand quietly when ordered to do so, and glad of the opportunity. The cries, "Help, help!" were renewed, mingled with louder tones in a rougher voice, tones of wrath and menace.
Cob's agonized yell, the clash itself, and the whir and rush of wings, as every bird there present literally flung itself into the air, seemed really, though of course they were not, coincident such is the quickness with which these wild creatures act. But Cob alone remained. He stopped in mid-spring horribly, and suddenly, as if a Hand had reached up and plucked him back.
So, with the two dolls in his claws, he rose up from the ground with a great swoop. The sound of a rifle and a bullet ripped through Kernel Cob's hat and struck the eagle full in the breast. His wings fluttered for a minute, and then with a plunge like a ball of lead he fell to the earth. "Well, well, well!" said Kernel Cob, as they lay under the eagle, "that was a pretty close shave."
Then I winks at old Sammy, and he says, very solemn, 'It's absurd for you, sir, to talk of trotting this gentleman. The cob's out of condition, and rough as a badger. You see I let the cob keep his winter coat, and he was an object and no error. So this bloke was a fly flat, don't you know, and I could see he bit.
Are we a-going to the little children's limbo? By Pluto, they'll bepaw and conskite us all. Or are we going to hell for orders? By cob's body, I'll hamper, bethwack, and belabour all the devils, now I have some vine-leaves in my shoes. Thou shalt see me lay about me like mad, old boy. Which way? where the devil are they?
I can't stay, my friend my thanks to the lady. And letting fall on the little dark figure who stood at his stirrup, a gold piece and a smile, Rollo passed him, bent a moment to speak to Mr. Falkirk, and brought the grey cob's ideas to a head by stepping him off at a good pace. The room was large, opening by glass doors upon a wilderness of grass, trees and flowers.
He hung on, and, before anybody realized that he had moved, Cob's yellow-and-red-painted bill nearly all red now had closed upon that raven's neck.
'A missus at Undern! said Andrew to the cob's ears as they trotted home. 'No, never will I! A magpie rose from a wood near the road, jibing at him. He looked round almost as if it had been someone laughing at his resolve, and repeated, 'Never will I! 'Where's Hazel? asked Reddin.
As for the herring-gull, he raced and danced in a crazy circle round his giant clansman, apparently smitten with delirium at the luscious titbits he was obliged to watch vanishing down Cob's bright throat. The raven, however, was growing desperate. He was under contract to Fate to feed his wife. She would freeze there on her nest in the snow among the icicle-studded ledges else.
"Look out for yourself," said Joses, raising his rifle; and nerving himself for the encounter, and wondering whether he really was afraid or no, Bart pressed his little cob's sides with his heels, making it increase its pace, while he, the rider, determined to dash boldly into the herd just as he had been told.
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