All eyes were turned on the young fellow's face in surprise and reprehension; and he uneasily attempted to carry off his inadvertent solecism with a sort of swagger.
"The horse can't hold out much longer at that rate," repeated Thompson, stooping to lace his boots.
"Can't he?" drawled Cooper, poking out the stem of his pipe with a stalk of grass. "He can hold out till something gives way. That's what he's in the habit o' doin', I'm thinkin'; an' he ain't goin' to break his rule this time."
"The Far-downer got at you that trip, Collins," remarked Mosey, seeking to retrieve his dignity by turning his back on the performance. "He seen you comin'. Say, ole son—how'd you like to swap back?"
"I kep' misdoubtin' that hoss all the (adj.) time," observed Nestor wisely.
"I felt sort o' jubious, on'y I did n't wanter say nothink."
"There goes the pore (fellow) at last; I knowed the horse would do it," said Cooper, as the stern captive spum'd his weary load, and asked the image back that heaven bestowed.
"Collar the horse quick!" suggested Dixon. "Nail him now, or you'll never ketch him."
"No great hurry," I muttered, dismounting. "However, I think I'd better have it out with him while he's warm. Or perhaps one of you fellows would like a try, while I do his yoking—just for a change?"
Cleopatra, now nibbling the scanty grass, glanced from time to time with grave sympathy at his late rider, who was occupying himself with his toilet.
"Ketch the (horse) quick!" reiterated Dixon.