'Can not the blacksmith do that himself? I never heard of it's taking two men to shoe one horse!'
'Wall, it do, stranger. I reckon ye never done that sort o' bisness.'
'But, can't you do it?'
'I do it! My bisness ar drivin' hosses, not shoein' on 'em. When I takes ter thet I'll let ye know!'
He had then taken off the harness and was preparing to mount the animal.
'Come, come, my good fellow, don't go back for that. Go on, and I'll hold the horse's feet.'
'Ye hold 'em! I reckon ye wull! I'd like to see a man uv yer cloth a holdin' a critter's fut! Ha! ha!' Then throwing his leg over the horse's bare back, he added: 'We doan't cum it over trav'lers thet way, in these diggin's—we doan't. We use 'em like folks—we do. Ye can bet yer pile on thet!'
Preston had been quietly enjoying the dialogue, and as the driver rode away, said to me:
'I knew you wouldn't make any thing out of him. Come, let us walk on; a little exercise, after our warm work, will do us good.'
Leaving the other passengers to await the motions of the driver, the blacksmith, and the black 'huff'-holder, we trudged on through the mud, and in about two hours reached the next station.