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Old Caravan Days by Mary Hartwell Catherwood
page 57 of 193 (29%)
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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