‘Tain’t fair on a feller—this teamin’ a man.”
“I’m oxen—I’m oxen,” old Henderson cried,
“Git onto your job or git out an’ go hide.”
Then Gile held the goad-stick in uncertain pose
And gingerly swished it near Uncle’Lish’s
nose.
“Wo hysh,” he said gently; “gee up, there,
old Bright!
Wo hysh—wo, wo, hysh,”—but with mischiev-
ous light