"Guess his breechin' must ha' broke goin' daown-hill," said the
Deacon. "Slippery road, maybe, an' the buggy come onter him, an'
he didn't know 'nough to hold back. That don't feel like teeth,
though. Maybe he busted a shaft, an' it pricked him."

"An' I come to you from Kansas, wavin' the tail o' friendship to
all an' sundry, an' in the name of the uncounted millions o'
pure-minded, high-toned horses now strugglin' towards the light
o' freedom, I say to you, Rub noses with us in our sacred an' holy
cause. The power is yourn. Without you, I say, Man the Oppressor
cannot move himself from place to place. Without you he cannot
reap, he cannot sow, he cannot plough."

"Mighty odd place, Kansas!" said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.
"Seemin'ly they reap in the spring an' plough in the fall. 'Guess
it's right fer them, but 'twould make me kinder giddy."

"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