wait a minute and not be so impatience Then he climbed upon a
box, got down a heavy canvas nose-bag with leather bottom,
and from a secret receptacle behind the oats box he brought a
paper bag of sugar and poured about a teacupful into the bag.
Daddy Chip had impressed upon him what would be the tragic
consequences if he fed oats to Silver five times a day.
Silver would die, and it would be the Kid that killed him.
Daddy Chip had not said anything about sugar being fatal,
however, and the Countess could not always stand guard over
the sugar sack. So Silver had a sweet taste in his mouth
twelve hours of the twenty-four, and was getting a habit of
licking his lips reminiscently during the other twelve.

The Kid had watched the boys adjust nose bags ever since he
could toddle. He lugged it into the stall, set it artfully
upon the floor and let Silver thrust in his head to the eyes:
then he pulled the strap over Silver's neck and managed to
buckle it very securely. He slapped the sleek neck afterward
as his Daddy Chip did, hugged it the way Doctor Dell did, and
stood back to watch Silver revel in the bag.

"'S good lickums?" he asked gravely, because he had once
heard his mother ask Silver that very question, in almost
that very tone.

At that moment an uproar outside caught his youthful
attention. He listened a minute, heard Pink's voice and a
shout of laughter, and ran to see what was going on; for
where was excitement, there the Kid was also, as nearly in
the middle of it as he could manage. His going would not have