It had survived everything, and stood up vividly green through the broken stalks of last year's wheat.

The horse sank in up to the pasterns, and he drew each hoof with a sucking sound out of the half-thawed ground.

Over the ploughland riding was utterly impossible; the horse could only keep a foothold where there was ice, and in the thawing furrows he sank deep in at each step.

The ploughland was in splendid condition; in a couple of days it would be fit for harrowing and sowing.

Everything was capital, everything was cheering.