"He is so considerate, usually!" Kate says; "he knows we don't like tearing up and down hills; but now and then his spirit runs away with him!"—I wish it would some day with us. No hope of it!
We stop every two miles to water the horse, and though we are exceedingly moderate in our donations, we are a fortune to the hostlers. I carry the purse, as Kate is quite occupied in holding the reins, and keeping a sharp look-out that her charger don't run off. Not that he ever showed a disposition that way,—being generally quite agreeable, if we wish him to stand ever so long a time; but Kate says he is very nervous, and he might be startled, and then we might find it impossible to stop him,—a thing easy enough hitherto.
I am obliged to keep the purse in my hand all the time, there being such frequent use for it. Kate says,—
"Give the man a half-dime, Charlie, if you can find one. A three-cent piece looks mean, you know; and a fip mounts up so, it is rather extravagant. That is the twelfth fip that man has had this week, and for only holding up a bucket a half-minute at a time; for Soldier only takes one swallow."
She will pay every time we stop, if it is six times a day.
"Shall I give the man a half-dollar at once," I ask, "and let that do for a week?"
"No, indeed! How mean I should feel, sneaking off without paying!"
When the roadside shows a patch of tender grass, Kate eyes it, and checks Soldier's pace. He knows what that means, and edges toward the tempting herbage.
"Poor fellow!" his driver says,—"it is like our having to pass a plate of peaches. Let him have a bite."
And so we wait while he grazes awhile. It is the same thing when we cross a brook, and Soldier pauses in it to cool his feet and look at his reflection in the water.