"I thought he had in him the makin' o' the finest horse in Posey County."
"Yes," said Si.
"Well, he's turnin' out even better'n I thought he would. Shouldn't wonder if he could trot down somewhere nigh 2:40."
"You don't say so."
"Yes, indeed. You used to want that colt mighty bad, Si."
"I remember that I did, Pap."
"Well, Si, I'll give you that colt, and take good care o' him till you come home, for that 'ere checker board."
When they arrived at their house Si and Shorty arranged the things so as to give the Deacon a most comfortable rest after his trying experiences, and cooked him the best dinner their larder would afford. After dinner they filled him a pipe-full of kinni-kinnick, and the old gentleman sat down to enjoy it while Si and Shorty investigated the contents of the carpetsack. They found endless fun in its woeful condition. The butter and honey were smeared over everything, in the rough handling which it had endured. They pulled out the shirt, the socks, the boots, the paper and books, and scraped off carefully as much as they could of the precious honey and butter.
"It's too good to waste the least bit," said Shorty, tasting it from time to time with unction. "Don't mind a hair or two in the butter, this time, Si. I kin believe your mother is a good buttermaker. It's the best I ever tasted."
