upon the rafters above.

"Boys," said Jonas, "it is dangerous for you to be up here; I'd rather
you'd go down."

"Well," said Oliver, and he began to descend.

"Why?" said Josey; "I don't think there's any danger."

"Yes," said Jonas, "a pitchfork wound is worse than almost any other. It
is what they call a _punctured_ wound."

"What kind of a wound is that?" said Josey.

"I'll tell you some other time," said Jonas. "But don't stay up here. You
don't obey so well as Oliver. Go down and give the old General some
hay."

The old General was the name of a large white horse, quite old and
steady, but of great strength. When he was younger, he belonged to a
general, who used to ride him upon the parade, and this was the origin
of his name.

Josey, at this proposal, made haste down the ladder, and began to put
some hay over into the old General's crib. He then went round into the
General's stall, and, patting him upon the neck, he asked him if his
breakfast was good.

In the mean time, Oliver opened the great barn doors, and, taking a
shovel, he began to clear away the snow from before them. The sky in the