“Well, you watch this and you'll see a horse's. There, now don't take your eyes away.”
He whittled silently for a time, then as he looked up his glance fell on the stagecoach in the yard, and he turned from it to Jack Hicks.
“There's one thing on earth I know about, Jack,” he said, “and that's a horse.”
“Not a better jedge in the county, suh,” was Jack's response.
As Dan whittled a flush rose to his face. “Does Tom Hyden still drive the Hopeville stage?” he asked.
“Well, you see it's this way,” answered Jack, weighing his words. “Tom he's a first-rate hand at horses, but he drinks like a fish, and last week he married a wife who owns a house an' farm up the road. So long as he had to earn his own livin' he kept sober long enough to run the stage, but since he's gone and married, he says thar's no call fur him to keep a level head—so he don't keep it. Yes, that's about how 'tis, suh.”
Dan finished the stick and handed it to the child. “I tell you what, Jack,” he said suddenly, “I want Tom Hyden's place, and I'm going to drive that stage over to Hopeville this afternoon. Phil Banks runs it, doesn't he?—well, I know him.” He rose and stood humorously looking out upon the coach. “There's no time like the present,” he added, “so I begin work to-day.”
Jack Hicks silently stared up at him for a moment; then he coughed and exclaimed hoarsely:—
“The jedgment ain't fur off,” but Dan laughed the prophecy aside and went upstairs to write to Betty.
“I've got a job, Big Abel,” he began, going into his room, where the negro was pressing a pair of trousers with a flatiron, “and what's more it will keep me till I get another.”