"It was to keep the neighbors from talking," he replied. "Differently situated, I would have kicked him into the road long ago. He is the strangest man I ever met. He's bright, and at times he appears the perfect gentleman and is exceedingly interesting, but in a moment his nature seems changed. We were at the barn this morning when his insulting mood came on, and I looked up at a scythe hanging there and was sorely tempted to mow off his head. But that would never do."
We were walking along a fence bordering the turn-pike. Someone in a buggy called the old man and I went onward to the house, with a regret that I had been so long away from my law book. We had given to our room the name of office, for Young Master had already begun to recite his lessons to a retired judge who almost daily dismounted from his horse to give us the benefit of his learning. In the office I found Bob and Mr. Clem.
"Why don't you go in with some lawyer in town and be done with it?" Mr. Clem was saying as I entered the room. "You are not quite old enough yet to reach the bar, but you've got about all the law you could get at school, and about all that remains now is to pick up the details of practice."
"Yes, I know," said Bob, "but when a young man goes into an old lawyer's office he is expected to do all the work, take none of the glory and receive but little of the pay. We'll hang on here a while longer, won't we, Dan?" He looked up at me with a smile.
"Yes, sir; and when we go, we'll go strong."
"Dan is to be my silent partner," he said, nodding at his uncle.
The old fellow jerked his shoulders as he replied: "Yes, sir, and he'd better be pretty devilish silent at that, I tell you. The leaves from so many abolition pamphlets are fluttering in the air that anything with the appearance of granting the negro more of equality with the white man will be resented in no uncertain way. But I'm glad to hear that Dan is to be your partner and I advise you to keep it strictly to yourselves. Heigh ho." He leaned back with a stretch. "This country is slower than tar in January. Haven't seen but two horses—horses that I'd have, you understand—go over the pike to-day. And that's rather discouraging for a man who insists on paying his way. Only two horses, and I didn't get but one of them." I thought to ask him concerning the outcome of his contest with the preacher, but he continued to talk, and I never thought of it again. Billows came to swallow the little waves.
"Yes, sir, only two horses that I would have, and yet this is the State of Kentucky, where Clay lived and died. Two horses, mind you, and I didn't get but one of them. Fellow didn't want to swap; said he was in a hurry. Might as well have said that he didn't want to live because he was in a hurry. But I got him to stop, and then I brought out the bay mare that I got the other day. She had her Sunday clothes on and I could see that she caught his eye. He got down and looked at her feet and then gathered up the skin on her shoulders; said he thought it was a little too tight. I told him that there wasn't anything loose about her; that the contract only called for enough skin to cover her. Well, we swapped, and I got twenty-eight dollars to boot, all he had. Would have got more, but he didn't have it. He was a sad sort of fellow and I didn't want to take advantage of him, without giving him some sort of a show, so I told him that he'd better not take my word for anything. But he did."
"Wasn't your mare all right?" Bob inquired.
"Oh, yes, in a measure—bad measure, I might say. She had been galloped down-hill on the pike until her shoulders were sorter stove up, and that's what made the skin too tight, and her wind ain't of the best, but she's good enough for him. I took his horse to town—just got back—and got a first rate price for him on the public square."