meant to; an' ef he hadn't--s'pose
we want the Back Pasture turned into a biffin'-ground on our only day er
rest? 'S'pose we want our men walkin' round with bits er lead pipe an' a
twitch, an' their hands full o' stones to throw at us, same's if we wuz
hogs er hooky keows? More'n that, leavin' out Tedda here--an' I guess
it's more her maouth than her manners stands in her light--there ain't a
horse on this farm that ain't a woman's horse, an' proud of it. An' this
yer bogspavined Kansas sunflower goes up an' daown the length o' the
country, traded off an' traded on, boastin' as he's shed women--an'
childern. I don't say as a woman in a buggy ain't a fool. I don't say
as she ain't the lastin'est kind er fool, ner I don't say a child ain't
worse--spattin' the lines an' standin' up an' hollerin'--but I do say,
'tain't none of our business to shed 'em daown the road."

"We don't," said the Deacon. "The baby tried to git some o' my tail for
a sooveneer last fall when I was up to the haouse, an' I didn't kick.
Boney's talk ain't goin' to hurt us any. We ain't colts."

"Thet's what you think Bimeby you git into a tight corner, 'Lection
day er Valley Fair, like's not, daown-taown, when you're all het an'
lathery, an' pestered with flies, an' thirsty, an' sick o' bein' worked
in an aout 'tween buggies. Then somethin' whispers inside o' your
winkers, bringin' up all that talk abaout servitood an' inalienable
truck an' sech like, an' jest then a Militia gun goes off; er your
wheels hit, an'--waal, you're only another horse ez can't be trusted.
I've been there time an' again. Boys--fer I've seen you all bought er
broke--on my solemn repitation fer a three-minute clip, I ain't givin'
you no bran-mash o' my own fixin'. I'm tellin' you my experiences, an'
I've had ez heavy a load an' ez high a check's any horse here. I wuz
born with a splint on my near fore ez big's a walnut, an' the cussed,
three-cornered Hambletonian temper that sours up an' curdles daown ez
you git older. I've favoured my splint; even little Rick he don't know
what it's cost me to keep my end up sometimes; an' I've fit my temper
in stall an' harness, hitched up an' at pasture, till the sweat trickled
off my hooves, an' they thought I wuz off condition, an' drenched me."

"When my affliction came," said Tweezy, gently, "I was very near to
losin' my manners. Allow me to extend to you my sympathy, suh."

Rick said nothing, but he looked at Rod curiously. Rick is a