For one swift moment the boy thought he would be struck.

Then the big man spoke; and his voice was measured and very still.

"If you think I burst the gamest eart that ever beat in an orse's ide
for a drink, why then, sir," with crushing simplicity, "you think wrong."

He resumed his rowing, and continued with the same surprising dignity.

"I bred that orse; I broke that orse; I loved that orse."

The tide of the boy's being set back with a shock.

"O!" he cried. "O ... I didn't mean ... I really...."

"That's all right, sir," came the other's smothered voice. "I know
you didn't."

He swallowed, and his face grew rigid. Then a light broke all about
it.

"But there!" with husky pride. "He won't bear me no grudge--will
you, old man?" with a hoarse burst of tenderness, flinging his arm
towards the bank, where the dead horse's girths glimmered still in
the dusk. "He know'd I wouldn't have asked it of him, only I had to.
That's my old orse! that's my Robin!--Never asked no questions. Just
took and died and did his duty without the talkin. Maybe some of us
might learn a bit from him."

Taking a great bandana from his pocket, he blew his nose like the report