“Who told you?”
“Joe Griffin.”
“How in the world came he, or anybody else, to know anything about it?”
“That’s more than I know; but he said you had to build a fence round her, and tie her hind legs together to milk her, and when she couldn’t kick, she’d lie down.”
“I bought wit pretty dear, Uncle Isaac.”
“Not quite so dear as Jim Colcord did. They say he can’t sit down, and won’t be able to till snow flies.”
CHAPTER XVII.
DEATH AND BURIAL OF TIGE RHINES.