Altogether the day was a pleasant one in spite of fatigue and anxiety as to Nana's successful leading home. I proposed to Cable to ride her, but he seems very timid about horses, and though all battered and bruised from rough usage on the railroad she was full of spirit and anxious to have her own way.
I was afraid we might have trouble at the ferry, for Nana is a mountain horse and had never seen a ferry, accustomed to a bridge or a ford, and it would be decidedly awkward if she took a notion to ford the Black River, as it is (more or less) sixty feet deep at the ferry. I had behind the buckboard a bale of fruit trees from Berckman's done up in rye-straw, with the heads of rye left on. This Nana was so eager to get a good bite of, that she followed into the ferry without noticing where she was going, but when she found the flat in motion, she seemed frightened. I told Cable to let her eat all the rye she wanted and even the precious fruit trees, rather than have her begin to fight, and all went well. She stood quietly eating while we crossed.
December 8.
Not having yet succeeded in getting any one to patch the boiler to the threshing mill, I determined to go myself to Waverly and try to get some one. I sent Bonaparte to measure the cracks that I might take the measurements over with me, and told Gibbie to get the red boat ready for me. Gibbie, who is very deaf, did not hear "red" and I found him tugging at my white boat, which is up under the piazza, waiting to be caulked and painted. Fortunately I passed by and saw him, for it was an impossibility for him to move it unaided. I succeeded in making him understand that he was to bring the red boat from the barn-yard to the house-landing for me.
I went in and turned the eggs in the incubator, filled and trimmed the lamp, donned my boating outfit, and went to the landing. A long wait and then Gibbie appeared, looking hopeless. "Miss, I kyan' fin' Bony no ways, en 'e got de oah en de oahlock shet up een de bahn."
I expressed great impatience at this. Bonaparte should not lock up my oars. I always have kept them at the house, but poor Bonaparte knows his own race so well that he has an infinite distrust of them and locks up everything until it has become a mania.
Having suggested every possible place to find Bonaparte, at last I said: "Have you looked in the boiler?"
"No, ma'am," with a wondering look.
"Well, look in there at once."
He soon returned at a run to say that "Uncle Tinny and Uncle Bony were both in the b'iler" and wanted a lantern. This was sent, and after a prolonged pause they both appeared with the measurements of the cracks.