"I don't remember having heard of a slocum. Is that one of Nature's lessons?"
"Bob," the Colonel spoke in a tone of warning, "you astonish me by your ignorance, sir. Everybody knows what a slocum is!"
They had reached the road, and Dale gave a long, low whinny, in so exact an imitation that even before Lucy answered and was heard coming toward him, the other horses, near by, had also whinnied a response. Bob laughed outright, and the Colonel chuckled.
"Upon my word, sir," he said, "I thought there was a horse right at the back of my neck! You do it remarkably well!"
Dale smiled, for compliments, even the simplest, he had not experienced. His people were unversed in many of the gentler ways, and this brought him a pleasant sense of being appreciated.
"Can you imitate other things?" Bob asked.
"All thar is in the mountings," he answered. "I've talked with 'em ever since I war a brat."
"They have a language, then?" Bob winked at the Colonel, who replied with another warning look.
"'Course they hev a language. They talk jest like we-uns do, but 'thout so many words. Lucy, hyar," he continued, after having patted her nose, "'n' all critters, has one kind of whinny fer hunger 'n' thirst, another when somethin's scarin' 'em, another when they're hurt, another when they're callin' a critter, 'n' another when they're answerin'. Most all varmints has those, too; jest the same as a critter—'cept the hunger call."
"I don't quite follow your distinction between critters, as you call them, and varmints," the Colonel turned curiously.