And Cæsar stepped forward, Mr. Richard retreating at the same time, until he came to the edge of the stall.
'Me like to see you touch one of dem horses.'
Mr. Richard had now come in closer contact with Cæsar; and perceiving that he was quite an old man, and walked rather stiff, made a sudden spring, and grasped the pitch-fork.
'Trap, Trap.'
There was a rush from the little room, and in the next moment Mr. Richard was lying on his back, with the fore-paws of master Trap resting one on each shoulder, and his mouth presenting a row of teeth in such dangerous contiguity to Mr. Richard's throat, that he began to fear matters were tending to extremities, and called out 'Murder!' at the top of his voice.
'Hole you lyin' tongue; he be de death of you.'
'Malony, Malony! help, help; kill the dog; quick, take a pitchfork, any thing, do, my good fellow, he'll murder me.'
But Mr. Malony was not so drunk but he had sense enough to see that there was mischief brewing; and no sooner was Mr. Richard on his back, than he bolted and ran for dear life, Mr. Richard's cries only adding wings to his flight across lots for home.
'I tell a you what, mister, you no hole you tongue and keep till, me let de dog take you lights out in a minit. Hold him dare, Trap, till a morning; den we see how he look.'
'Oh, good man! good man!' Mr. Richard spoke now in a whisper—'do—don't go away, don't leave me here; I promise I will go right off; I was only doing my duty as an officer.'