Ten Eyck almost fell from his horse in fear, and hastened to disclaim any personal allusion in his question.
“All right. Now I’ll answer your question. This hoss is where I can get him easily. All you have got to do is to ride home, and come again about five this evening to Paul Swedlepipe’s. You can see the hoss there.”
Turning up his nose at Paul Swedlepipe, and applying his heels to the sides of the remarkable courser he bestrode, Ten Eyck rode away, bobbing up and down in his saddle like a dancing-Jack.
“Now, Paul,” said Boston, “I want your help. Where is this hoss I sold you the other day?”
“Out in de bush.”
“Send for him.”
“What you want of him?”
“Never you mind; he is mine, and I want him. And mind, I also want the teeth and tail I sold with him. Them I must have.”
Paul called to one of his boys, and sent him after the horse, while he himself produced the tail and teeth which he had carefully preserved. The boy returned in about an hour, during which Paul and the hawker imbibed large quantities of apple-jack, not strong enough, however, to unsettle their ideas. When the boy appeared, Boston took the bridle of the horse, and led him away, closely followed by Swedlepipe.