"The produc's of your untirin' industry would rot on the ground
if you did not weakly consent to help him. Let 'em rot, I say!
Let him call you to the stables in vain an' nevermore! Let him
shake his ensnarin' oats under your nose in vain! Let the
Brahmas roost in the buggy, an' the rats run riot round the
reaper! Let him walk on his two hind feet till they blame well
drop off! Win no more soul-destroyn' races for his pleasure!
Then, an' not till then, will Man the Oppressor know where he's
at. Quit workin', fellow-sufferers an' slaves! Kick! Rear!
Plunge! Lie down on the shafts, an' woller! Smash an' destroy!
The conflict will be but short, an' the victory is certain.
After that we can press our inalienable rights to eight quarts
o' oats a day, two good blankets, an' a fly-net an' the best o'
stablin'."

The yellow horse shut his yellow teeth with a triumphant snap;
and Tuck said, With a sigh: 'Seems's if somethin' ought to be
done. Don't seem right, somehow,- oppressin' us an all,- to my
way o' thinkin'."

Said Muldoon, in a far-away and sleepy voice:

"Who in Vermont's goin' to haul de inalienable oats? Dey weigh
like Sam Hill, an' sixty bushel at dat allowance ain't goin' to
last t'ree weeks here. An' dere's de winter hay for five
mont's!"

"We can settle those minor details when the great cause is won,"
said the yellow horse. "Let us return simply but grandly to our
inalienable rights - the right o' freedom on these yere verdant