es, windows were thrown up, and all hands--men,
women, and children--ran to see what was the matter, laughing and
shouting, while the pigs and dogs ran round the square.

"Paul Parker did that, I'll bet," said Mr. Leatherby, the shoemaker,
peeping out from his shop. "It is just like him."

An old white horse, belonging to Mr. Smith, also sought the shade of the
maple before the Pensioner's house. Bruno barked at him by the hour, but
the old horse would not move for anything short of a club or stone.

"I'll see if I can't get rid of him," said Paul to himself.

He went into the barn, found a piece of rope, tied up a little bundle of
hay, got a stick five or six feet long, and some old harness-straps. In
the evening, when it was so dark that people could not see what he was
up to, he caught the old horse, laid the stick between his ears and
strapped it to his neck, and tied the hay to the end of the stick; then
it hung a few inches beyond old Whitey's nose. The old horse took a step
ahead to nibble the hay,--another,--another,--another! "Don't you wish
you may get it?" said Paul. Tramp,--tramp,--tramp. Old Whitey went down
the road. Paul heard him go across the bridge by the mill, and up the
hill the other side of the brook.

"Go it, old fellow!" he shouted, then listened again. It was a calm
night, and he could just hear old Whitey's feet,--tramp,--tramp,--tramp.

The next morning the good people of Fairview, ten miles from New Hope,
laughed to see an old white horse, with a bundle of hay a few inches
beyond his nose, passing through the place.

"Have you seen my horse?" Mr. Smith asked Paul in the morning.

"Yes, sir, I saw him going down towards the bridge last evening," Paul
replied, chuckling to himself.

Mr. Smith went down to the mill and inquired. The miller heard a horse
go over the bridge. The farmer on the other side heard a horse go up the
hill. Mr. Smith looked at the tracks. They were old Whitey's, for he had
a broken shoe on his left hind foot. He followed on. "I never knew him
to go away before," he said to himself, as he walked hour after hour,
seeing the tracks all the way to Fairview.

"Have you seen a white horse about here?" he asked of one of the
villagers.

"Yes, sir; there was one here this morning trying to overtake a bundle
of hay," the man replied, laughing. "There he is now!" he added.

Mr. Smith looked up and saw old Whitey, who had turned about, and was
reaching forward to get a