Summary

Portrait of Harry Castlemon Harry Castlemon George in Camp; or, Life on the Plains

George’s pack mule, and the other was Ranger, his favorite riding nag. These animals, which were among the best of their kind, had been the boy’s almost constant companions, ever since he returned from school and settled down to the business of herding cattle. Bony was small and clean-limbed, sleek as a mole and treacherous as mules generally are. He took unbounded delight in knocking over everything and everybody that came within reach of his hind feet, and when he felt in the humor for doing it, he could kick himself out from under the pack-saddle with the greatest ease.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Harry Castlemon Harry Castlemon George in Camp; or, Life on the Plains

This remark showed Gus to be possessed of so mean and paltry a spirit, and the wish expressed in it was so perfectly ridiculous, that Ned burst into a loud laugh. He could not help it. Gus looked sharply at him for a moment, and continued his walk up and down the porch, whipping his boots at every step. He was greatly amazed, as every young fellow is, when he learns for the first time that he is not an absolute necessity, and that the world will wag just as well without him as it will with him.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Harry Castlemon Harry Castlemon George in Camp; or, Life on the Plains

As they drew rein at the gap and looked over the desolated field the cattle shook their heads as if they were indignant at the interruption, and went off toward the opposite fence in a gallop.
“What wild-looking fellows!” exclaimed Gus. “I should think you would be afraid to go near them.”
“They are wild, too,” replied Ned. “They’d just as soon go for us as not if we were on foot, but they’ll not trouble us so long as we are in the saddle. But just look at this wheat! It’s ruined, isn’t it?”
Source: Gutenberg

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