“Oh, gone avay mit yourself!” said Hans, quickly. “I nefer ride a pig preakfasts on.”
“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed the Vermonter. “I knowed he’d back aout. Why, you couldn’t ride a saw-hoss!”
“Vot?” screamed Hans, angrily. “Don’d you pelief me! I pet myself zwei tollar I can ride der pestest horse vot you never saw! Yaw! I done him any oldt times!”
“Then come on, an’ don’t ye darst back aout.”
Hans was wildly excited. His fat face was flushed and his eyes were bulging. He presented such a ludicrous spectacle that the boys broke into shouts of laughter.
“You hadn’t better try to ride a broncho, Hans,” warned Frank, who feared the fat lad might be injured. “Keep away from the deceptive broncho. Only the most expert horsemen can ride them.”
“Vale, I peen der most exbert horseman vot you nefer saw. Yaw! I profe him to yourself. Come on!”
Hans ran down the steps, tripped over his own feet, and rolled on the grass, producing still more amusement.
“Come on!” he wildly cried, as he struggled up. “You don’d know der kindt uv sduff I vasn’t made uf. Shust you pring me to a hoss vot I don’d peen aple not to ride! You can’t done dot!”
“He’ll nivver dare throy it, b’ys,” grinned Barney. “He’ll back out th’ minute he sees th’ baste. Come on. It’s poiles av shport we’ll be afther havin’ wid him.”