Look how he rattles up that hickory bark. Wall, down yan we
turn to the right an' go up a little rise, dip down ag'in, then go up
an' keep on a goin' up fur about a mile an' thar's the church. Who
preaches to-day, Margaret?"
"Brother Fetterson."
"Ah, hah, good man; an' I want to say that he's got mighty fine jedgment
when it comes to a hoss. He fust rid in here on a hoss that had about
fo' j'ints to the squar foot. Some of our fellers told him he was so
thin he oughtn't be rid in the day--ought to keep him fur the dark;
called him a sort of night mare. But he tuck it good natured an' jest
kep' on a chawin' o' his tobacker. Then atter a while he lows that mebby
some good brother mout like to swap with him, an' ever'body laughed
fitten to kill. Then he said mebby they mout like to swop saddles. Wall,
they done that an' right thar was the rise of that preacher in the good
opinion of this here community, fur it wan't long till he swopped off
his hoss, a givin' the saddle to boot, an' he kept on a swoppin' till
the fust thing we knowed he had the finest hoss in the whole
neighborhood, an' the fust feller he swopped with was a walkin' an' a
totin' his saddle.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121