Old Caravan Days by Mary Hartwell Catherwood
page 57 of 193 (29%)
page 57 of 193 (29%)
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Zene cast a compassionate glance at his small companion.
"What do folks ever lead critters away in the night for?" he hinted. "Sometimes to water and feed them." "I s'ze to myself," continued Zene, ignoring this absurd supposition, "'now, if they puts the horses in their stable, they means to keep the wagon too, and make way with me so no one will ever know it. But,' I s'ze, 'if they tries to lead the horses off somewhere for to hide 'em, then _that's_ all they want, and they'll pretend in the morning to have lost stock themselves.'" "And which did they do?" urged Robert after a thrilling pause. "They marched straight for their stable." The encounter was now to take place. Robert Day braced himself by means of the wagon-tongue. "Then what did _you_ do?" "I rises up," Zene recounted in a cautious whisper, "draws back the boot, and throws with all my might." "Not at the woman?" urged Bobaday. "I wanted to break her first," apologized Zene. "She was worse than the man. But I missed her and hit him." |
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