"Wa'al," he resumed, "after the talk with the barn man, I smelt woolen
stronger'n ever, but I didn't say nothin', an' had the mare hitched an'
started back. Old Jinny drives with one hand, an' I c'd watch the new
one all right, an' as we come along I begun to think I wa'n't stuck
after all. I never see a hoss travel evener an' nicer, an' when we come
to a good level place I sent the old mare along the best she knew, an'
the new one never broke his gait, an' kep' right up 'ithout 'par'ntly
half tryin'; an' Jinny don't take most folks' dust neither. I swan!
'fore I got home I reckoned I'd jest as good as made seventy-five
anyway."




CHAPTER II.


"Then the' wa'n't nothin' the matter with him, after all," commented
Mrs. Bixbee in rather a disappointed tone.

"The meanest thing top of the earth was the matter with him," declared
David, "but I didn't find it out till the next afternoon, an' then I
found it out good. I hitched him to the open buggy an' went 'round by
the East road, 'cause that ain't so much travelled. He went along all
right till we got a mile or so out of the village, an' then I slowed him
down to a walk. Wa'al, sir, scat my ----! He hadn't walked more'n a rod
'fore he come to a dead stan'still. I clucked an' git-app'd, an' finely
took the gad to him a little; but he only jest kind o' humped up a
little, an' stood like he'd took root."