He sot clear'n through, and he froze his toes,
And a foot-long ice-kittle hung to his nose,
And he says, 'Gol darn these oil-skin clo'es!'
So haul the bowline, haul!
"Now Renzo caught a fever,
That's what Renzo caught, tiddy hi!
It sot him all a-queever,
So haul the bowline, haul!
He took to his bed and the doctor come,
And give him a dose that sure was some,
For it h'isted him off to Kingdom Come.
So haul the bowline, haul!"
"Oh! thank you!" cried Kitty. "Thank you ever so much!"
"I thank you," replied the brown man, "for listenin'. I expect you've had the hardest job of the two, if all was known."
He stepped to the head of the brown horse, felt of the bag and shook his head; the brown horse shook his.
"Hossy," he spoke slowly, in a singularly cordial, pleasant tone, "you ain't eat your dinner!"
The horse shook his head again and sneezed.
"You no call to sneeze!" said the brown man. "It's good feed, and you've had time enough. I can't wag your jaws for you! If you expect that, Hossy, you're liable to be disappointed right away! Sam'll be in forty conniptions now because I'm late!"
He took off the nose-bag and folded it deliberately, the brown horse continuing to sneeze protest. Looking up, he met Kitty's interested eyes again, and his face broke into a delightful smile.