middle of a hot wave when de fat Kanucks an' Western horses
drops dead on de block. De simple child o' nature had better
chase himself inter de water. Every man at de end of his lines
is mad or loaded or silly, an' de cop's madder an' loadeder an'
sillier than de rest. Dey all take it outer de horses. Dere's no
wavin' brooks ner ripplin' grass on de Belt Line. Run her out on
de cobbles wid de sparks flyin', an' stop when de cop slugs you
on de bone o' yer nose. Dat's N'York; see?

"I was always told s'ciety in Noo York was dreffle refined an'
high-toned," said Tuck. "We're lookin' to go there one o' these
days, Nip an' me."

"Oh, you won't see no Belt business where you'll go, miss. De man
dat wants you'll want bad, an' he'll summer you on Long Island
er at Newport, wid a winky-pinky silver harness an' an English
coachman. You'll make a star-hitch, you an' yer brother, miss.
But I guess you won't have no nice smooth bar bit. Dey checks
'em, an' dey bangs deir tails, an' dey bits 'em, de city folk,
an' dey says it's English, ye know, an' dey darsen't cut a horse
loose 'ca'se o' de cops. N' York's no place fer a horse, 'less
he's on de Belt, an' can go round wid de boys. Wisht I was in de
Fire Department!"

"But did you never stop to consider the degradin' servitood of it
all?" said the yellow horse.

"You don't stop on de Belt, cully. You're stopped. An' we was
all in de servitood business, man an' horse, an' Jimmy dat sold
de papers. Guess de passengers weren't out to grass neither, by