“I wish you’d give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by.”
Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the little eohippus—namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he owed a good deal to Charley.
“All right, Charley. Take good care of him—he’s a lucky little horse. I think a heap of him. Here we are!”
The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river; the muddy water swirled about his horse’s knees. He halted for parting; Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious Alice book from his bosom, put it in the crown of his miner’s cap and jammed the cap tightly on his head.
“Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We’ll rout somebody out and order a dish of stewed eggs.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The farther off from England the nearer ’tis to France;
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join
the dance.
Will you—won’t you——”
“‘No, I won’t! I told you once!’” snapped the beloved snail.
“Here’s the little eohippus horse then.” As Charley took it Jeff wrung his hand. “By George, I’ve got to change my notion of Arcadia people. If there’s many like you and Griffith, Arcadia’s going to crowd the map!... Well—so long!”
“It looks awful wide, Jeff!”
“Oh, I’ll be all right—swim it myself if the horse plays out—and if I don’t have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride. Well—here goes nothin’! Take care of the little horse. I hope he brings you good luck!”