The Day's Work

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horses like it well enough— our own, and the others that
are turned down there to feed at fifty cents a week.
Most people walk to the Back Pasture, and find it very
rough work; but one can get there in a buggy, it the
horse knows what is expected of him. The safest con-
veyance is our coupe. This began life as a buckboard,
and we bought it for five dollars from a sorrowful man
who had no other sort of possessions; and the seat
came off one night when we were turning a corner in a
hurry. After that alteration it made a beautiful salting-
machine, if you held tight, because there was nothing
to catch your feet when you fell out, and the slats
rattled tunes.

One Sunday afternoon we went out with the salt as
usual. It was a broiling hot day, and we could not find
the horses anywhere till we let Tedda Gabler, the bob-
tailed mare who throws up the dirt with her big hooves
exactly as a tedder throws hay, have her head. Clever
as she is, she tipped the coup6 over in a hidden brook
before she came out on a ledge of rock where all the
horses had gathered, and were switching flies. The
Deacon was the first to call to her. He is a very dark
iron-grey four-year-old, son of Grandee. He has been
handled since he was two, was driven in a light cart
before he was three, and now ranks as an absolutely
steady lady's horse— proof against steam-rollers, grade-
crossings, and street processions.

" Salt! " said the Deacon, joyfully. " You 're dreffle
late, Tedda."

"Any— any place to cramp the coupe?" Tedda
panted. "It weighs turr'ble this weather. I 'd 'a'

152]

A WALKING DELEGATE

come sooner, but they did n't know what they wanted
— ner haow. Fell out twice, both of 'em. I don't
understand sech foolishness."

" You look consider'ble het up. 'Guess you 'd better
cramp her under them pines, an' cool off a piece."

Tedda scrambled on the ledge, and cramped the coupe
in the shade of a tiny little wood of pines, while my
companion and I lay down among the brown, silky
needles, and gasped. All the home horses were gath-
ered round us, enjoying their Sunday leisure.

There were Rod and Rick, the seniors on the farm.
They were the regular road-pair, bay with black points,
full brothers, aged, sons of a Hambletonian sire and a
Morgan dam. There were Nip and Tuck, seal-browns,
rising six, brother and sister, Black Hawks by birth,
perfectly matched, just finishing their education, and
as handsome a pair as man could wish to find in a
forty-mile drive. There was Muldoon, our ex-car-horse,
bought at a venture, and any colour you choose that is
not white; and Tweezy, who comes from Kentucky,
with an affliction of his left hip, which makes him a
little uncertain how his hind legs are moving. He and
Muldoon had been hauling gravel all the week for our
new road. The Deacon you know already. Last of
all, and eating something, was our faithful Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus, the black buggy-horse, who had
seen us through every state of weather and road, the
horse who was always standing in harness before some
door or other— a philosopher with the appetite of a
shark and the manners of an archbishop. Tedda Gabler
was a new 4 ' trade, ' ' with a reputation for vice which
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A WALKING DELEGATE

was really the result of bad driving. She had one
working gait, which she could hold till further notice;
a Roman nose; a large, prominent eye; a shaving-
brush of a tail ; and an irritable temper. She took her
salt through her bridle; but the others trotted up nuz-
zling and wickering for theirs, till we emptied it on the
clean rocks. They were all standing at ease, on three
legs for the most part, talking the ordinary gossip of
the Back Pasture— about the scarcity of water, and
gaps in the fence, and how the early windfalls tasted
that season— when little Rick blew the last few grains
of his allowance into a crevice, and said :

" Hurry, boys! 'Might ha' knowed that livery-plug
would be around."

We heard a clatter of hoofs, and there climbed up from
the ravine below a fifty-center transient— a wall-eyed,
yellow frame-house of a horse, sent up to board from
a livery-stable in town, where they called him "The
Lamb," and never let him out except at night and to
strangers. My companion, who knew and had broken
most of the horses, looked at the ragged hammer-head
as it rose, and said quietly :

" Ni-ice beast. Man-eater, if he gets the chance— see
his eye. Kicker, too— see his hocks. Western horse."

The animal lumbered up, snuffling and grunting. His
feet showed that he had not worked for weeks and
weeks, and our creatures drew together significantly.

" As usual," he said, with an underhung sneer —
" bowin' your heads before the Oppressor that comes to
spend his leisure gloatin' over you."

"Mine's done," said the Deacon; he licked up the
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A WALKING DELEGATE

remnant of his salt, dropped his nose in his master's
hand, and sang a little grace all to himself. The Dea-
con has the most enchanting manners of any one I know.

" An' fawnin' on them for what is your inalienable
right. It 's humiliatin'," said the yellow horse, sniffing
to see if he could find a few spare grains.

" Go daown hill, then, Boney," the Deacon replied.
" Guess you '11 find somefin' to eat still, if yer hain't
hogged it all. You 've ett more 'n any three of us to-
day—an' day 'fore that— an' the last two months—
sence you 've been here."

" I am not addressin' myself to the young an' imma-
ture. I am speakin' to those whose opinion an' experi-
ence commands respect."

I saw Eod raise his head as though he were about to
make a remark; then he dropped it again, and stood
three-cornered, like a plough-horse. Rod can cover his
mile in a shade under three minutes on an ordinary
road to an ordinary buggy. He is tremendously power-
ful behind, but, like most Hambletonians, he grows a
trifle sullen as he gets older. No one can love Bod very
much; but no one can help respecting him.

1 ' I wish to wake those, ' ' the yellow horse went on, ' ' to
an abidin' sense o' their wrongs an' their injuries an'
their outrages. ' '

"Haow 's that?" said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus,
dreamily. He thought Boney was talking of some kind
of feed.

"An' when I say outrages and injuries"— Boney
waved his tail furiously—" I mean 'em, too. Great
Oats ! That 's just what I do mean, plain an' straight. "
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A WALKING DELEGATE

" The gentleman talks quite earnest," said Tuck, the
mare, to Nip, her brother. " There 's no doubt thinkin'
broadens the horizons o' the mind. His language is quite
lofty."

" Hesh, sis," Nip answered. "He hain't widened
nothin' 'cep' the circle he 's ett in pasture. They feed
words fer beddin' where he comes from. ' '

"It 's elegant talkin', though," Tuck returned, with
an unconvinced toss of her pretty, lean little head.

The yellow horse heard her, and struck an attitude
which he meant to be extremely impressive. It made
him look as though he had been badly stuffed.

" Now I ask you— I ask you without prejudice an'
without favour, —what has Man the Oppressor ever done
for you? Are you not inalienably entitled to the free air
o' heaven, blowin' acrost this boundless prairie? "

" Hev ye ever wintered here? " said the Deacon, mer-
rily, while the others snickered. " It 's kinder cool."

4 * Not yet, ' ' said Boney . ' ' I come from the boundless
confines o' Kansas, where the noblest of our kind have
their abidin' -place among the sunflowers on the thresh-
old o' the settin' sun in his glory."

" An' they sent you ahead as a sample? " said Rick,
with an amused quiver of his long, beautifully groomed
tail, as thick and as fine and as wavy as a quadroon's
back hair.

" Kansas, sir, needs no advertisement. Her native
sons rely on themselves an' their native sires. Yes, sir. ' '

Then Tweezy lifted up his wise and polite old head.
His affliction makes him bashful as a rule, but he is
ever the most courteous of horses.

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A WALKING DELEGATE

"Excuse me, suh," he said slowly, "but, unless I
have been misinfohmed, most of your prominent siahs,
suh, are impo'ted from Kentucky; an' J 'm from
Paduky."

There was the least little touch of pride in the last
words.

"Any horse dat knows beans," said Muldoon, sud-
denly (he had been standing with his hairy chin on
Tweezy's broad quarters), " gits outer Kansas 'fore dey
crip his shoes. I blew in dere from loway in de days
o' me youth an' innocence, an' I wuz grateful when
dey boxed me fer N' York. You can't tell me anything
about Kansas I don't wanter fergit. De Belt Line
stables ain't no Hoffman House, but dey 're Vander-
bilt's 'longside o' Kansas."

" What the horses o' Kansas think to-day, the horses
of America will think to-morrow; an' I tell you that
when the horses of America rise in their might, the day
o' the Oppressor is ended."

There was a pause, till Rick said, with a little grunt :

" Ef you put it that way, every one of us has riz in
his might, 'cep' Marcus, mebbe. Marky, 'j ever rise in
yer might?"

' ' Nope, ' ' said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, thought-
fully quidding over a mouthful of grass. "I seen a
heap o' fools try, though."

" You admit that you riz? " said the Kansas horse, ex-
citedly. " Then why— why in Kansas did you ever go
under again? "

" 'Horse can't walk on his hind legs all the time," said
the Deacon.

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A WALKING DELEGATE

" Not when he 's jerked over on his back 'fore he
knows what fetched him. We 've all done it, Boney,"
said Kick. " Nip an' Tuck they tried it, spite o' what
the Deacon told 'em; an' the Deacon he tried it, spite o'
what me an' Rod told him; an' me an' Rod tried it, spite
o' what Grandee told us ; an' I guess Grandee he tried it,
spite o' what his dam told him. It 's the same old cir-
cus from generation to generation. 'Colt can't see why
he 's called on to back. Same old rearin' on end-
straight up. Same old feelin' that you 've bested 'em
this time. Same old little yank at yer mouth when
you 're up good an' tall. Same old Pegasus-act, won-
derin' where you '11 'light. Same old wop when you hit
the dirt with your head where your tail should be, and
your in'ards shook up like a bran-mash. Same old voice
in your ear: ' Waal, ye little fool, an' what did you
reckon to make by that? ' We 're through with risin' in
our might on this farm. We go to pole er single, ac-
cordin' ez we 're hitched."

"An' Man the Oppressor sets an' gloats over you,
same as he 's settin' now. Hain't that been your ex-
perience, madam?"

This last remark was addressed to Tedda; and any one
could see with half an eye that poor, old, anxious, fidgety
Tedda, stamping at the flies, must have left a wild and
tumultuous youth behind her.

4 * 'Pends on the man, ' ' she answered, shifting from one
foot to the other, and addressing herself to the home
horses. " They abused me dreffle when I was young.
I guess I was sperrity an' nervous some, but they did n't
allow for that. 'T was in Monroe County, Noo York,
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an' sence then till I come here, I 've run away with
more men than 'u'd fill a boar din '-house. Why, the
man that sold me here he says to the boss, s' he:
4 Mind, now, I 've warned you. 'T won't be none of my
fault if she sheds you daown the road. Don't you drive
her in a top-buggy , ner 'thout winkers,' s' he, 'ner 'thout
this bit, ef you look to come home behind her.' 'N' the
fust thing the boss did was to git the top-buggy."

" Can't say as I like top-buggies," said Kick; " they
don't balance good."

* ' Suit me to a ha'ar, ' ' said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.
" Top-buggy means the baby 's in behind, an' I kin stop
while she gathers the pretty flowers— yes, an' pick a
maouthful, too. The women-folk all say I hev to be hu-
moured, an' —I don't kerry things to the sweatin' -point. ' '

" 'Course I 've no prejudice against a top-buggy s'
long 's I can see it," Tedda went on quickly. "It 's
ha'f-seein' the pesky thing bobbin' an' balancin' behind
the winkers gits on my nerves. Then the boss looked
at the bit they 'd sold with me, an' s' he: ' Jiminy
Christmas! This 'u'd make a clothes-horse stan' 'n
end ! ' Then he gave me a plain bar bit, an' fitted it 's
if there was some feelin' to my maouth."

"Hain't ye got any, Miss Tedda?" said Tuck, who
has a mouth like velvet, and knows it.

" Might 'a' had, Miss Tuck, but I 've forgot. Then
he give me an open bridle,— my style 's an open bridle
—an'— I dunno as I ought to tell this by rights— he-
give— me— a kiss."

" My ! " said Tuck, " I can't tell fer the shoes o' me
what makes some men so fresh."
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A WALKING DELEGATE

" Pshaw, sis," said Nip, " what 's the sense in actin'
so? You git a kiss reg'lar 's hitchin'-up time."

" Well, you need n't tell, smarty," said Tuck, with a
squeal and a kick.

" I 'd heard o' kisses, o' course," Tedda went on,
"but they had n't come my way specially. I don't
mind tellin' I was that took aback at that man's doin's
he might ha' lit fire-crackers on my saddle. Then we
went out jest 's if a kiss was nothin', an' I was n't three
strides into my gait 'fore I felt the boss knoo his
business, an' was trustin' me. So I studied to please
him, an' he never took the whip from the dash— a whip
drives me plumb distracted— an' the upshot was that
— waal, I 've come up the Back Pasture to-day, an' the
coupe" 's tipped clear over twice, an' I 've waited till
't wuz fixed each time. You kin judge for yourselves. I
don't set up to be no better than my neighbors,— spe-
cially with my tail snipped off the way 't is,— but I want
you all to know Tedda 's quit fightin' in harness or out
of it, 'cep' when there 's a born fool in the pasture,
stuffin' his stummick with board that ain't rightly hisn,
'cause he hain't earned it."

" Meanin' me, madam? " said the yellow horse.

" Ef the shoe fits, clinch it," said Tedda, snorting.
' * I named no names, though, to be sure, some folks are
mean enough an' greedy enough to do 'thout 'em."

" There 's a deal to be forgiven to ignorance," said the
yellow horse, with an ugly look in his blue eye.

" Seemin'ly, yes; or some folks 'u'd ha' been kicked
raound the pasture 'bout onct a minute sence they came
—board er no board."

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A WALKING DELEGATE

" But what you do not understand, if you will excuse
me, madam, is that the whole principle o' servitood,
which includes keep an' feed, starts from a radically
false basis; an' I am proud to say that me an' the ma-
jority o' the horses o' Kansas think the entire concern
should be relegated to the limbo of exploded supersti-
tions. I say we 're too progressive for that. I say
we 're too enlightened for that. 'T was good enough 's
long 's we did n't think, but naow— but naow— a new
loominary has arisen on the horizon! "

" Meanin' you? " said the Deacon.

* ' The horses o' Kansas are behind me with their mul-
titoodinous thunderin' hooves, an' we say, simply but
grandly, that we take our stand with all four feet on the
inalienable rights of the horse, pure and simple,— the
high-toned child o' nature, fed by the same wavin'
grass, cooled by the same ripplin' brook,— yes, an'
warmed by the same gen'rous sun as falls impartially
on the outside an' the inside of the pampered machine o'
the trottin' -track, or the bloated coupe-horses o' these
yere Eastern cities. Are we not the same flesh and
blood?"

" Not by a bushel an' a half," said the Deacon, under
his breath. " Grandee never was in Kansas."

" My! Ain't that elegant, though, abaout the wavin'
grass an' the ripplin' brooks? " Tuck whispered in Nip's
ear. " The gentleman 's real convincing I think."

" I say we are the same flesh an' blood! Are we to

be separated, horse from horse, by the artificial barriers

of a trottin'-record, or are we to look down upon each

other on the strength o' the gifts o' nature— an extry

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inch below the knee, or slightly more powerful quarters?
What 's the use o' them advantages to you? Man the
Oppressor comes along, an' sees you 're likely an' good-
lookin', an' grinds you to the face o' the earth. What
for? For his own pleasure: for his own convenience!
Young an' old, black an' bay, white an' grey, there 's
no distinctions made between us. We 're ground up
together under the remorseless teeth o' the engines of
oppression! "

" Guess his breechin' must ha' broke goin' daown-
hill," said the Deacon. " Slippery road, maybe, an' the
buggy come onter him, an' he did n't know 'nough to
hold back. That don't feel like teeth, though. Maybe
he busted a shaft, an' it pricked him."

" An' I come to you from Kansas, wavin' the tail o'
friendship to all an' sundry, an' in the name of the un-
counted millions o' pure-minded, high-toned horses now
strugglin' towards the light o' freedom, I say to you,
Bub noses with us in our sacred an' holy cause. The
power is yourn. Without you, I say, Man the Oppres-
sor cannot move himself from place to place. Without
you he cannot reap, he cannot sow, he cannot plough."

" Mighty odd place, Kansas! " said Marcus Aurelius
Antoninus. " Seemin'ly they reap in the spring an'
plough in the fall. 'Guess it 's right fer them, but
't would make me kinder giddy."

"The produc's of your untirin' industry would rot
on the ground if you did not weakly consent to help
him. Let 'em rot, I say! Let him call you to the
stables in vain an' nevermore! Let him shake his
ensnarin' oats under your nose in vain ! Let the Brah-
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A WALKING DELEGATE

mas roost in the buggy, an' the rats run riot round the
reaper! Let him walk on his two hind feet till they
blame well drop off! Win no more soul-destroyin'
races for his pleasure! Then, an' not till then, will
Man the Oppressor know where he 's at. Quit workin',
fellow-sufferers an' slaves I Kick! Hear! Plunge! Lie
down on the shafts, an' woller! Smash an' destroy!
The conflict will be but short, an' the victory is certain.
After that we can press our inalienable rights to eight
quarts o' oats a day, two good blankets, an' a fly-net
an' the best o' stablin'."

The yellow horse shut his yellow teeth with a tri-
umphant snap; and Tuck said, with a sigh: " Seems 's
if somethin' ought to be done. Don't seem right, some-
how,—oppressin' us an' all,— to my way o' thinkin'."

Said Muldoon, in a far-away and sleepy voice: " Who
in Vermont 's goin' to haul de inalienable oats? Dey
weigh like Sam Hill, an' sixty bushel at dat allowance
ain't goin' to last free weeks here. An' dere 's de
winter hay for five mont's!"

14 We can settle those minor details when the great
cause is won," said the yellow horse. " Let us return
simply but grandly to our inalienable rights— the right
o' freedom on these yere verdant hills, an' no invijjus
distinctions o' track an' pedigree."

"What in stables 'jer call an invijjus distinction?"
said the Deacon, stiffly.

uFer one thing, bein' a bloated, pampered trotter
jest because you happen to be raised that way, an'
could n't no more help trottin' than eatin'."

* ' Do ye know anythin' about trotters? ' ' said the Deacon.
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A WALKING DELEGATE

"I 've seen 'em trot. That was enough for me. J
don't want to know any more. Trottin' 's immoral."

" Waal, I '11 tell you this much. They don't bloat, an'
they don't pamp— much. I don't hold out to be no
trotter myself, though I am free to say I had hopes that
way— onct. But I do say, fer I 've seen 'em trained,
that a trotter don't trot with his feet: he trots with
his head; an' he does more work— ef you know what
that is— in a week than you er your sire ever done in
all your lives. He 's everlastingly at it, a trotter is;
an' when he is n't, he 's studyin' haow. You seen 'em
trot? Much you hev! You was hitched to a rail, back
o' the stand, in a buckboard with a soap-box nailed on
the slats, an' a frowzy buff'lo atop, while your man
peddled rum fer lemonade to little boys as thought they
was actin' manly, till you was both run off the track
and jailed — you intoed, shufitin', sway-backed, wind-
suckin' skate, you! "

"Don't get het up, Deacon,*' said Tweezy, quietly.
" Now, suh, would you consider a fox-trot, an' single-
foot, an' rack, an1 pace, an' amble, distinctions not
worth distinguishin' ? I assuah you, gentlemen, there
was a time befo' I was afflicted in my hip, if you '11
pardon me, Miss Tuck, when I was quite celebrated in
Paduky for all those gaits; an' in my opinion the Dea-
con 's co'rect when he says that a ho'se of any position
in society gets his gaits by his haid, an' not by — his, ah,
limbs, Miss Tuck. I reckon I 'm very little good now,
but I *m rememberin' the things I used to do befo' I
took to transpo'tin' real estate with the help and assis-
tance of this gentleman here." He looked at Muldoon.

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44 Invij jus arterficial hind-legs ! " said the ex-car-horse,
with a grunt of contempt. " On de Belt Line we don't
reckon no horse wuth his keep 'less he kin switch de
car off de track, run her round on de cobbles, an' dump
her in ag'in ahead o' de truck what 's blockin' him.
Dere is a way o' swinging yer quarters when de driver
says, 4 Yank her out, boys ! ' dat takes a year to learn.
Onct yer git onter it, youse kin yank a cable-car outer
a manhole. I don't advertise myself for no circus-
horse, but I knew dat trick better than most, an' dey
was good to me in de stables, fer I saved time on de
Belt — an' time 's what dey hunt in N' York.'*

u But the simple child o1 nature—'* the yellow horse
began.

u Oh, go an' unscrew your splints! You 're talkin'
through yer bandages," said Muldoon, with a horse-
laugh. "• Dere ain't no loose-box for de simple child o'
nature on de Belt Line, wid de Paris comin' in an' de
Teutonic goin' out, an' de trucks an de' coupes sayin'
things, an' de heavy freight movin' down fer de Boston
boat 'bout free o'clock of an August afternoon, in de
middle of a hot wave when de fat Kanucks an' Western
horses drops dead on de block. De simple child o'
nature had better chase himself inter de water. Every
man at de end of his lines is mad or loaded or silly, an'
de cop 's madder an' loadeder an' sillier than de rest.
Dey all take it outer de horses. Dere 's no wavin'
brooks ner ripplin' grass on de Belt Line. Run her
out on de cobbles wid de sparks flyin', an' stop when
de cop slugs you on de bone o' yer nose. Dat 's
N' York; see?"

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A WALKING DELEGATE

" I was always told s'ciety in Noo York was dreffle
refined an' high-toned," said Tuck. " We 're lookin' to
go there one o' these days, Nip an' me."

" Oh, you won't see no Belt business where you '11 go,
miss. De man dat wants you '11 want you bad, an'
he '11 summer you on Long Island er at Newport, wid a
winky-pinky silver harness an' an English coachman.
You '11 make a star-hitch, you an' yer brother, miss.
But I guess you won't have no nice smooth bar bit.
Dey checks 'em, an dey bangs deir tails, an' dey bits
'em, de city folk, an' dey says it 's English, ye know,
and dey darsen't cut a horse loose 'ca'se o' de cops.
N' York 's no place fer ahorse, 'less he 's on de Belt, an'
can go round wid de boys. Wisht I was in de Fire
Department ! ' '

" But did you never stop to consider the degradin'
servitood of it all? " said the yellow horse.

" You don't stop on the Belt, cully. You 're stopped.
An' we was all in de servitood business, man an' horse,
an' Jimmy dat sold de papers. Guess de passengers
were n't out to grass neither, by de way dey acted. I
done my turn, an' I 'm none o' Barnum's crowd ; but any
horse dat 's worked on de Belt four years don't train
wid no simple child o' nature— not by de whole length
o' N' York."

"But can it be possible that with your experience,
and at your time of life, you do not believe that all
horses are free and equal? " said the yellow horse.

" Not till they 're dead," Muldoon answered quietly.
" An' den it depends on de gross total o' buttons an'
mucilage dey gits outer youse at Barren Island."
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" They tell me you 're a prominent philosopher.'*
The yellow horse turned to Marcus. " Can you deny a
basic and pivotal statement such as this? "

" I don't deny any thin'," said Marcus Aurelius An-
toninus, cautiously ; ' ' but ef you ast me, I should say
't wuz more different sorts o' clipped oats of a lie than
any thin' I 've had my teeth into sence I wuz foaled.'7

" Are you a horse? " said the yellow horse.

" Them that knows me best 'low I am."

"Ain't I a horse?"

" Yep; one kind of."

" Then ain't you an' me equal? "

" How fer kin you go in a day to a loaded buggy,
drawin' five hundred pounds? " Marcus asked carelessly.

" That has nothing to do with the case," the yellow
horse answered excitedly.

" There 's nothing I know hez more to do with the
case," Marcus replied.

" Kin ye yank a full car outer de tracks ten times
in de mornin'? " said Muldoon.

" Kin ye go to Keene— forty-two mile in an afternoon
—with a mate," said Rick, "an' turn out bright an'
early next mornin'? "

"Was there evah any time in your careah, suh— I
am not referrin' to the present circumstances, but our
mutual glorious past— when you could carry a pretty
girl to market hahnsome, an' let her knit all the way on
account o' the smoothness o' the motion? " said Tweezy.

"Kin you keep your feet through the West River
Bridge, with the narrer-gage comin' in on one side, an'
the Montreal flyer the other, an' the old bridge teeterin'
[67]

A WALKING DELEGATE

between? " said the Deacon. " Kin you put your nose
down on the cow-catcher of a locomotive when you 're
waitin' at the depot an' let 'em play ' Curfew shall not
ring to-night ' with the big brass bell? "

" Kin you hold back when the brichin' breaks? Kin
you stop fer orders when your nigh hind leg 's over your
trace an' ye feel good of a frosty mornin' ? ' ' said Nip,
who had only learned that trick last winter, and thought
it was the crown of horsely knowledge.

"What 's the use o' talkin'?" said Tedda Gabler,
scornfully. ' ' What kin ye do ? "

" I rely on my simple rights— the inalienable rights
o' my unfettered horsehood. An' I am proud to say
I have never, since my first shoes, lowered myself to
obeyin' the will o' man."

" 'Must ha' had a heap o' whips broke over yer
yaller back," said Tedda. " Hev ye found it paid
any?"

' ' Sorrer has been my portion since the day I was
foaled. Blows an' boots an' whips an' insults— injury,
outrage, an' oppression. I would not endoor the de-
gradin' badges o' servitood that connect us with the
buggy an' the farm- wagon. ' '

" It 's amazin' difficult to draw a buggy 'thout traces
er collar er breast-strap er somefin'," said Marcus. " A
Power-machine for sawin' wood is 'most the only thing
there 's no straps to. I 've helped saw 's much as
three cord in an afternoon in a Power-machine. Slep',
too, most o' the time, I did; but 't ain't half as in-
terestin' ez goin' daown-taown in the Concord."

" Concord don't hender you goin' to sleep any," said
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A WALKING DELEGATE

Nip. * ' My throat-lash ! D' you remember when you lay
down in the sharves last week, waitin' at the piazza? "

" Pshaw! That did n't hurt the sharves. They wuz
good an' wide, an' I lay down keerful. The folks kep'
me hitched up nigh an hour 'fore they started; an'
larfed— why, they all but lay down themselves with
larfin'. Say, Boney, if you 've got to be hitched to any-
thing that goes on wheels, you 've got to be hitched
with somefin'."

" Go an' jine a circus," said Muldoon, " an7 walk on
your hind legs. All de horses dat knows too much to
work [he pronounced it "woik," New York fashion]
jine de circus."

"I am not sayin' anythin' again' work," said the
yellow horse; " work is the finest thing in the world."

" 'Seems too fine fer some of us," Tedda snorted.

* ' I only ask that each horse should work for himself,
an' enjoy the profit of his labours. Let him work intelli-
gently, an' not as a machine."

" There ain't no horse that works like a machine,"
Marcus began.

" There 's no way o' workin' that does n't mean goin'
to pole or single— they never put me in the Power-ma-
chine—er under saddle," said Rick.

" Oh, shucks! We 're talkin' same ez we graze," said
Nip, u raound an' raound in circles. Rod, we hain't
heard from you yet, an' you 've more know-how than
any span here. ' '

Rod, the off -horse of the pair, had been standing with
one hip lifted, like a tired cow; and you could only tell
by the quick flutter of the haw across his eye, from
[69]

A WALKING DELEGATE

time to time, that he was paying any attention to the
argument. He thrust his jaw out sidewise, as his habit
is when he pulls, and changed his leg. His voice was
hard and heavy, and his ears were close to his big, plain
Hambletonian head.

" How old are you? " he said to the yellow horse.

" Nigh thirteen, I guess."

" Mean age; ugly age; I 'm gettin' that way myself.
How long hev ye been pawin' this fire-fanged stable-
litter?"

" If you mean my principles, I 've held 'em sence I
was three."

"Mean age; ugly age; teeth give heaps o' trouble
then. 'Set a colt to actin' crazy fer a while. You 've
kep' it up, seemin'ly. D' ye talk much to your neigh-
bors fer a steady thing? "

" I uphold the principles o' the Cause wherever I am
pastured."

" 'Done a heap o' good, I guess? "

" I am proud to say I have taught a few of my com-
panions the principles o' freedom an' liberty."

" Meanin' they ran away er kicked when they got
thechanst?"

"I was talkin' in the abstrac', an' not in the con-
crete. My teachin's educated them."

" "What a horse, specially a young horse, hears in the
abstrac', he 's liable to do in the Concord. You wuz
handled late, I presoom."

".Four, risin' five."

' * That 's where the trouble began. Driv' by a woman,
like ez not— eh?"

[TO]

A WALKING DELEGATE

"Not fer long," said the yellow horse, with a snap
of his teeth.

" Spilled her? "

" I heerd she never drove again.'*

" Any childern? "

" Buckboards full of 'em."

"Men too?"

" I have shed conside'ble men in my tune."

"Bykickin'?"

" Any way that come along. Fallin' back over the
dash is as handy as most. ' '

" They must be turr'ble afraid o' you daown-taown? "

" They 've sent me here to get rid o' me. I guess
they spend their time talkin' over my campaigns."

* ' I wanter know ! ' '

" Yes, sir. Now, all you gentlemen have asked me
what I can do. I '11 just show you. See them two
fellers lyin' down by the buggy? "

"Yep; one of 'em owns me. T' other broke me,"
said Rod.

" Get 'em out here in the open, an' I '11 show you
something. Lemme hide back o' you peoples, so 's they
won't see what I 'm at."

" Meanin' ter kill 'em? " Rod drawled. There was a
shudder of horror through the others; but the yellow
horse never noticed.

" I '11 catch 'em by the back o' the neck, an' pile-
drive 'em a piece. They can suit 'emselves about livin'
when I 'm through with 'em."

" Should n't wonder ef they did," said Rod.

The yellow horse had hidden himself very cleverly
[71]

A WALKING DELEGATE

behind the others as they stood in a group, and was
swaying his head close to the ground with a curious
scythe-like motion, looking sidewise out of his wicked
eyes. You can never mistake a man-eater getting
ready to knock a man down. We had had one to pas-
ture the year before.

" See that? " said my companion, turning over on the
pine-needles. " Nice for a woman walking 'cross lots,
would n't it be? "

"Bring 'em out!" said the yellow horse, hunching
his sharp back. " There 's no chance among them tall
trees. Bring out the— oh ! Ouch ! ' '

It was a right-and-left kick from Muldoon. I had
no idea that the old car-horse could lift so quickly.
Both blows caught the yellow horse full and fair in the
ribs, and knocked the breath out of him.

"What 's that for?" he said angrily, when he re-
covered himself; but I noticed he did not draw any
nearer to Muldoon than was necessary.

Muldoon never answered, but discoursed to himself
in the whining grunt that he uses when he is going
down-hill in front of a heavy load. We call it singing;
but I think it 's something much worse, really. The
yellow horse blustered and squealed a little, and at last
said that, if it was a horse-fly that had stung Muldoon,
he would accept an apology.

" You '11 get it," said Muldoon, "in de sweet by-and-
bye— all de apology you 've any use for. Excuse me
interruptin' you, Mr. Eod, but I 'm like Tweezy— I 've
a Southern drawback in me hind legs."

" Naow, I want you all here to take notice, and you '11
[72]

A WALKING DELEGATE

learn something," Rod went on. " This yaller-backeO.
skate conies to our pastur' — ' '

" Not havin' paid his board," put in Tedda.

u Not havin' earned his board, an' talks smooth to us
abaout ripplin' brooks an' wavin' grass, an' his high-
toned, pure-souled horsehood, which don't hender him
sheddin' women an' childern, an' fallin' over the dash
onter men. You heard his talk, an' you thought it
mighty fine, some o' you."

Tuck looked guilty here, but she did not say any-
thing.

" Bit by bit he goes on ez you have heard."

" I was talkin' in the abstrac'," said the yellow horse,
in an altered voice.

" Abstrac' be switched! Ez I Ve said, it 's this yer
blamed abstrac' business that makes the young uns
cut up in the Concord; an' abstrac' or no abstrac', he
crep' on an' on till he come to killin' plain an' straight
— killin' them as never done him no harm, jest beca'se
they owned horses. ' '

" An' knowed how to manage 'em," said Tedda.
4 * That makes it worse."

" Waal, he did n't kill 'em, anyway," said Marcus.
" He 'd ha' been half killed ef he had tried."

u Makes no differ," Rod answered. " He meant to;
an' ef he had n't— s'pose we want the Back Pasture
turned into a biffin' -ground on our only day er rest?
'S'pose we want our men walkin' round with bits er
lead pipe an' a twitch, an' their hands full o' stones to
throw at us, same 's if we wuz hogs er hooky keows?
More 'n that, leavin' out Tedda here— an' I guess it 's
[73]

A WALKING DELEGATE

more her maouth than her manners stands in her light
—there ain't a horse on this farm that ain't a woman's
horse, an' proud of it. An' this yer bog-spavined Kan-
sas sunflower goes up an' daown the length o' the coun-
try, traded off and traded on, boastin' as he 's shed
women— an' childern. I don't say as a woman in a
buggy ain't a fool. I don't say as she ain't the lastin'est
kind er fool, ner I don't say a child ain't worse— spat-
tin' the lines an' standin' up an' hollerin' —but I do say,
't ain't none of our business to shed 'em daown the road. ' '

u We don't," said the Deacon. " The baby tried to
git some o' my tail for a sooveneer last fall when I was
up to the haouse, an' I did n't kick. Boney's talk ain't
goin' to hurt us any. We ain't colts."

44 Thet 's what you think. Bimeby you git into a tight
corner, 'Lection day er Valley Fair, like 's not, daown-
taown, when you 're all het an' lathery, an' pestered
with flies, an' thirsty, an' sick o' bein' worked in an'
aout 'tween buggies. Then somethin' whispers inside o*
your winkers, bringin' up all that talk abaout servitood
an' inalienable truck an' sech like, an' jest then a Militia
gun goes off, er your wheels hit, an'— waal, you 're only
another horse ez can't be trusted. I Ve been there
time an' again. Boys— fer I 've seen you all bought
er broke— on my solemn repitation fer a three-minute
clip, I ain't givin' you no bran-mash o' my own fixin'.
I 'm tellin' you my experiences, an' I 've had ez heavy
a load an' ez high a check 's any horse here. I wuz
born with a splint on my near fore ez big 's a walnut,
an' the cussed, three-cornered Hambletonian temper
that sours up an' curdles daown ez you git older. I 've

[74]

A WALKING DELEGATE

favoured my splint; even little Rick he don't know what
it 's cost me to keep my end up sometimes; an' I 've fit
my temper in stall an' harness, hitched up an' at pas-
ture, till the sweat trickled off my hooves, an' they
thought I wuz off condition, an' drenched me."

" When my affliction came," said Tweezy, gently, " I
was very near to losin' my manners. Allow me to ex-
tend to you my sympathy, suh."

Rick said nothing, but he looked at Rod curiously.
Rick is a sunny-tempered child who never bears malice,
and I don't think he quite understood. He gets his
temper from his mother, as a horse should.

"I Ve been there too, Rod," said Tedda. "Open
confession 's good for the soul, an' all Monroe County
knows I Ve had my experiences. "

"But if you will excuse me, suh, that pusson" —
Tweezy looked unspeakable things at the yellow horse —
" that pusson who has insulted our intelligences comes
from Kansas. An' what a ho'se of his position, an'
Kansas at that, says cannot, by any stretch of the
halter, concern gentlemen of our position. There 's no
shadow of equal'ty, suh, not even for one kick. He 's
beneath our contempt."

"Let him talk," said Marcus. "It 's always in-
terestin' to know what another horse thinks. It don't
tech us."

"An' he talks so, too," said Tuck. "I Ve never
heard any thin' so smart for a long tune."

Again Rod stuck out his jaws sidewise, and went on
slowly, as though he were slugging on a plain bit at the
end of a thirty-mile drive :

[75]

A WALKING DELEGATE

" I want all you here ter understand thet ther ain't
no Kansas, ner no Kentucky, ner yet no Vermont, in
our business. There 's jest two kind o' horse in the
United States— them ez can an' will do their work after
bein' properly broke an' handled, an' them as won't.
I 'm sick an' tired o' this everlastin' tail-switchin' an'
wickerm' abaout one State er another. A horse kin be
proud o' his State, an' swap lies abaout it in stall or
when he 's hitched to a block, ef he keers to put in fly-
time that way; but he hain't no right to let that pride
o' hisn interfere with his work, ner to make it an ex-
cuse fer claimin' he 's different. That 's colts' talk, an'
don't you fergit it, Tweezy. An', Marcus, you remem-
ber that bein' a philosopher, an' anxious to save trouble,
— fer you are— don't excuse you from jumpin' with
all your feet on a slack-jawed, crazy clay-bank like
Boney here. It 's leavin' 'em alone that gives 'em their
chance to ruin colts an' kill folks. An', Tuck, waal,
you 're a mare anyways— but when a horse comes
along an' covers up all his talk o' killin' with ripplin'
brooks, an' wavin' grass, an' eight quarts of oats a day
free, after killin' his man, don't you be run away with
by his yap. You 're too young an' too nervous."

u I '11 — I '11 have nervous prostration sure ef there 's
a fight here," said Tuck, who saw what was in Eod's
eye; " I 'm— I 'm that sympathetic I 'd run away clear
to next caounty."

"Yep; I know that kind o' sympathy. Jest lasts
long enough to start a fuss, an' then lights aout to make
new trouble. I hain't been ten years in harness fer
nuthin'. Naow, we 're goin' to keep school with Boney
fer a spell."

[76]

A WALKING DELEGATE

"Say, look a-here, you ain't goin' to hurt me, are
you? Eemember, I belong to a man in town," cried
the yellow horse, uneasily. Muldoon kept behind him
so that he could not run away.

4 ' I know it. There must be some pore delooded fool
in this State hez a right to the loose end o' your hitchin'-
strap. I 'm blame sorry fer him, but he shall hev his
rights when we 're through with you," said Rod.

" If it 's all the same, gentlemen, I 'd ruther change
pasture. Guess I '11 do it now."

" Can't always have your 'druthers. Guess you
won't," said Rod.

" But look a-here. All of you ain't so blame un-
friendly to a stranger. S'pose we count noses. ' '

" What in Vermont fer?" said Rod, putting up his
eyebrows. The idea of settling a question by counting
noses is the very last thing that ever enters the head of
a well-broken horse.

" To see how many 's on my side. Here 's Miss
Tuck, anyway; an' Colonel Tweezy yonder 's neutral;
an' Judge Marcus, an' I guess the Reverend [the yellow
horse meant the Deacon] might see that I had my rights.
He 's the likeliest-lookin' trotter I 've ever set eyes on.
Pshaw, boys! You ain't goin' to pound me, be you?
Why, we 've gone round in pasture, all colts together,
this month o' Sundays, hain't we, as friendly as could
be. There ain't a horse alive— I don't care who he is—
has a higher opinion o' you, Mr. Rod, than I have. Let 's
do it fair an' true an' above the exe. Let 's count noses
same 's they do in Kansas. ' ' Here he dropped his voice
a little and turned to Marcus: "Say, Judge, there 's
some green food I know, back o' the brook, no one
[77]

A WALKING DELEGATE

hain't touched yet. After this little fracas is fixed up,
you an' me '11 make up a party an' 'tend to it."

Marcus did not answer for a long time, then he said :
" There 's a pup up to the haouse 'bout eight weeks old.
He '11 yap till he gits a lickin', an' when he sees it
comin' he lies on his back, an' yowls. But he don't go
through no cir&^uous nose-countin' first. I 've seen a
noo light sence Eod spoke. You '11 better stand up to
what 's served. I 'm goin' to philosophize all over your
carcass. ' '

u / 'm goin' to do yer up in brown paper," said Mul-
doon. ' ' I can fit you on apologies. ' '

' ' Hold on. Ef we all biffed you now, these same men
you 've been so dead anxious to kill 'u'd call us off.
Guess we '11 wait till they go back to the haouse, an'
you '11 have time to think cool an' quiet," said Rod.

" Have you no respec' whatever fer the dignity o'
our common horsehood? " the yellow horse squealed.

"Nary respec' onless the horse kin do something.
America 's paved with the kind er horse you are— jist
plain yaller-dog horse— waitin' ter be whipped inter
shape. We call 'em yearlings an' colts when they 're
young. When they 're aged we pound 'em— in this
pastur'. Horse, sonny, is what you start from. We
know all about horse here, an' he ain't any high-toned,
pure-souled child o' nature. Horse, plain horse, same
ez you, is chock-full o' tricks, an' meannesses, an'
cussednesses, an' shirkin's, an' monkey-shines, which
he 's took over from his sire an' his dam, an' thickened
up with his own special fancy in the way o' goin'
crooked. Thet 's horse, an' thet 's about his dignity an'
[78]

A WALKING DELEGATE

the size of his soul 'fore he 's been broke an' rawhided
a piece. Now we ain't goin' to give ornery unswitched
horse, that hain't done nawthin' wuth a quart of oats
sence he wuz foaled, pet names that would be good
enough f er Nancy Hanks, or Alix, or Directum, who hev.
Don't you try to back off acrost them rocks. Wait
where you are ! Ef I let my Hambletonian temper git
the better o' me I 'd frazzle you out finer than rye-
straw inside o' three minutes, you woman-scarin',
kid-killin', dash-breakin', unbroke, unshod, ungaited,
pastur' -hoggin', saw-backed, shark-mouthed, hair-
trunk-thrown-in-in- trade son of a bronco an' a sewin'-
machine! "

"I think we 'd better get home," I said to my com-
panion, when Eod had finished ; and we climbed into the
coupe, Tedda whinnying, as we bumped over the ledges :
" Well, I 'm dreffle sorry I can't stay fer the sociable;
but I hope an' trust my friends '11 take a ticket fer me."

" Bet your natchul! " said Muldoon, cheerfully, and
the horses scattered before us, trotting into the ravine.
**********

Next morning we sent back to the livery-stable what
was left of the yellow horse. It seemed tired, but anx-
ious to go.

[79]

THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF

THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF

IT was her first voyage, and though she was but a
cargo-steamer of twenty-five hundred tons, she was
the very best of her kind, the outcome of forty years of
experiments and improvements in framework and ma-
chinery; and her designers and owner thought as much
of her as though she had been the Lucania. Any one
can make a floating hotel that will pay expenses, if he
puts enough money into the saloon, and charges for pri-
vate baths, suites of rooms, and such like ; but in these
days of competition and low freights every square inch
of a cargo-boat must be built for cheapness, great hold-
capacity, and a certain steady speed. This boat was,
perhaps, two hundred and forty feet long and thirty-
two feet wide, with arrangements that enabled her to
carry cattle on her main and sheep on her upper deck
if she wanted to ; but her great glory was the amount
of cargo that she could store away in her holds. Her
owners— they were a very well-known Scotch firm-
came round with her from the north, where she had
been launched and christened and fitted, to Liverpool,
where she was to take cargo for New York; and the
owner's daughter, Miss Frazier, went to and fro on