you?" he said to it. "These light-weight stoodents spile you!" So the
gelding went on, expressing, however, by every line of its body, a sense
of outraged justice. The boys related their difficult search, and
learned that any mention of the name of Diggs would have brought them
straight. "Bill Higgs of the Bird-in-Hand was my father, and my
grandf'ther, and his father; and has been me sence I come back from the
war and took the business in '65. I'm not commonly to be met out this
late. About fifteen minutes earlier is my time for gettin' back, unless
I'm plannin' for a jamboree. But to-night I got to settin' and watchin'
that sunset, and listenin' to a darned red-winged blackbird, and I guess
Mrs. Higgs has decided to expect me somewheres about noon to-morrow or
Friday. Say, did Johnnie send you? "When he found that John had in a
measure been responsible for their journey, he filled with gayety. "Oh,
Johnnie's a bird!" said he. "He's that demure on first appearance.
Walked in last evening and wanted dinner. Did he tell you what he ate?
Guess he left out what he drank. Yes, he's demure."

You might suppose that upon their landlord's safe and sober return
fifteen minutes late, instead of on the expected noon of Thursday or
Friday, their landlady would show signs of pleasure; but Mrs. Diggs from
the porch threw an uncordial eye at the three arriving in the buggy.
Here were two more like Johnnie of last night. She knew them by the
clothes they wore and by the confidential tones of her husband's voice
as he chatted to them. He had been old enough to know better for twenty
years. But for twenty years he had taken the same extreme joy in the
company of Johnnies, and they were bad for his health. Her final proof
that they belonged to this hated breed was when Mr. Diggs thumped the
trout down on the porch, and after briefly remarking, "Half of 'em
boiled, and half broiled with bacon," himself led away the gelding to
the stable instead of intrusting it to his man Silas.