“For you!” said the astonished Nat.
“Of course, for me,” replied the dwarf, coolly. “You’re a stranger here. How’ll you find the lower ferry unless I show you?”
At this Nat burst into a laugh.
“Right!” said he, cheerily. “How would I, to be sure? So get down and hold the gray and I’ll saddle the chestnut for you in a moment.”
The Porcupine slid himself along the rafter dexterously until he reached the wall where there was a ladder leading to the loft. Down this he swung easily; and Nat watching him for the first time noted the great length of his arms and the size of his hands.
In a space the chestnut was beside the other horse, champing its bit in a dissatisfied sort of way. The dwarf, who scarcely came to the shoulder of the tall gray, held it by the rein and watched Nat’s accustomed fingers approvingly as they flew from buckle to buckle.
“So,” said the young mountaineer, as he worked, “you are for Congress and against the king, are you?”
“No,” replied the Porcupine, “I’m only against Neighbor Dimisdale.”
“And why against him?” asked Nat.
“Once there was a great robbing of hen-roosts; they could not find out who was doing it, so Master Dimisdale settled upon me and wanted me sent to the workhouse. He said I was a vagrant and a danger to the town.”