A. B. Facey
- A Fortunate Life
When we arrived at the twenty-five mile mark we stopped near a creek, took the horse out of the sulky, gave him a drink and then put the nose-bag on him for his meal. Jack and I sat on a log and ate our sandwiches. This man was one of the nicest and most understanding I had ever met. He told me he was from Scotland and that his father was financing him to become a farmer.
