CHAPTER XVII.
LICKSKILLET HAS A SENSATION.
Though this is a true and faithful chronicle of the adventures of our friend Benjamin Cleveland, so closely have his affairs now become linked with the destiny of another that we must temporarily leave him, and turn to the hamlet of Lickskillet.
When the Evangelist arrived with his horse late the previous afternoon, he found the village to consist of a single straggling street, lined by country stores, in front of which were hitched a few farm teams and country wagons. The Evangelist was stared at after the usual bucolic fashion. His immediate business being the disposal of his equine property, he rode up to a long, low, weather-stained building, bearing the legend, "Livery, board and sale stable," in skeleton characters on a board that decorated a pole. Half a dozen loungers greeted his advent with a stolid stare.
Horton rode into the building and dismounting, propounded the question:
"Does anybody know of anybody that wants to buy a horse?"
Another stare, more dense in its stupidity and stolidity, greeted the query.
"If they do, here's a solid good work horse I'll sell cheap," continued he.
At this information a man, who had been engaging his time and attention in company with an intelligent jack knife, upon a shingle, arose, and allowing his hand and knife to pare away at the wood after their own inclination, walked slowly around the horse and observed him with a critical eye.
"Whar'd ye get him?" he asked.