“This kind o’ reached his understandin’, and made him more wishious; for he hoofed a little like, and made a drive. And as I don’t like to stand in anybody’s way, I gin him plenty sea-room. So he kind o’ passed by me, and cum out on t’other side; and as the captain o’ the mud-swamp ranger’s would say: ‘’bout face for another charger.’
“Though I war ready for him this time, he come mighty nigh runnin’ foul o’ me. So I made up my minde the next time he went out he wouldn’t be alone. So when he passed, I grappled his tail, and he pulled me out on the ‘sile,’ and as soon as we were both a’top o’ the bank, old Brindle stopped, and was about comin’ round agin, when I begin pull’n t’other way.
“Well, I reckon this kind o’ riled him, for he fust stood stock still, and look’d at me for a spell, and then commenced pawin’ and bellerin’, and the way he made his hind gearing play in the air, war beautiful!
“But it warn’t no use, he couldn’t tech me, so he kind o’ stopped to get wind for suthin’ devilish, as I judged by the way he stared. By this time I had made up my mind to stick to his tail as long as it stuck to his back-bone! I didn’t like to holler fur help, nuther, kase it war agin my principles; and then the Deacon had preached at his house, and it warn’t far off nuther.
“I know’d if he hern the noise, the hull congregation would come down; and as I warn’t a married man, and had a kind o’ hankerin’ arter a gal that war thar, I didn’t feel as if I would like to be seed in that ar predicament.
“ ‘So,’ ses I, ‘you old sarpent, do yer cussedst!’
“And so he did; for he drug me over every briar and stump in the field, until I was sweatin’ and bleedin’ like a fat bar with a pack o’ hounds at his heels. And my name ain’t Mike Fink, if the old critter’s tail and I didn’t blow out sometimes at a dead level with the varmint’s back!
“So you may kalkilate we made good time. Bimeby he slackened a little, and then I had him for a spell, for I jest dropped behind a stump, and that snubbed the critter.
“ ‘Now,’ ses I, ‘you’ll pull up this ’ere white oak, break you’re tail, or jist hold on a bit till I blow.’
“Well, while I war settin’ thar, an idea struck me that I had better be a gettin’ out o’ this in some way. But how, adzackly was the pint! If I let go and run, he’d be a foul o’ me sure.