“No, Sir, nor do I wish—”
“Wal, guess it won’t set you back much, any how, as kicking’s generally best to be considered on. You see old Bradley is one of these sanctimonious, long-faced hypocrites, who put on a religious suit every Sabbath morning, and with a good deal of screwing, manage to keep it on till after sermon in the afternoon; and as I was a Universalist, he allers picked me out as a subject for religious conversation—and the darned hypocrite would talk about sacred things, without ever winking. Wal, he had an old roan mare that would jump over any fourteen-rail fence in Illinois, and open any door in my barn that hadn’t a padlock on it. Tu or three times I found her in my stable, and I told Bradley about it, and he was ‘very sorry’—‘an unruly animal’—‘would watch her,’ and a hull lot of such things, all said in a very serious manner, with a face twice as long, as Deacon Farrar’s on Fast day. I knew all the time he was lying, and so I watched him and his old roan tu; and for three nights regular, old roan came to my stable about bed time, and just at daylight Bradley would come, bridle her, and ride off. I then just took my old mare down to a blacksmith’s shop, and had some shoes made with ‘corks’ about four inches long, and had ’em nailed on to her hind feet. Your heels mister, ain’t nuthing to ’em. I took her home, give her about ten feet halter, and tied her right in the centre of the stable, fed her well with oats about nine o’clock, and after taking a good smoke, went to bed, knowing that my old mare was a truth-telling animal, and that she’d give a good report of herself in the morning. I hadn’t got fairly to sleep before the old ’oman hunched me and wanted to know what on airth was the matter out at the stable.
“Says I, ‘Go tu sleep, Peggy, it is nothing but Kate—she is kicking off flies, I guess!’
“Purty soon she hunched me again, and says she:
“ ‘Mr. Hitchcock, du git up and see what in the world is the matter with Kate, for she is kicking most powerfully.’
“ ‘Lay still, Peggy, Kate will take care of herself, I guess.’
“Wal, the next morning, about daylight, Bradley, with bridle in hand, cum to the stable, as true as the book of Genesis; when he saw the old roan’s sides, starn, and head, he cursed and swore worse than you did, mister, when I came down on your toes. Arter breakfast that morning Joe Davis cum to my house, and says he:
“ ‘Bradley’s old roan is nearly dead—she’s cut all to pieces and can scarcely move.’
“ ‘I want to know,’ says I, ‘how on airth did it happen?’
“Now, Joe Davis was a member of the same church with Bradley, and whilst we were talking, up cum that everlastin’ hypocrite, and says he: