Dean came along in a moment.
'Nice mornin'!' said he.
'Grand!' said Uncle Eb.
'Lookin' at the lan'scape ag'in?'
'Yes; I've jes' begun t' see what a putty country this is,' said Uncle
Eb.
'How's the boss?'
'Splendid! Gives ye time t' think an' see what yer passin'. Like t' set
'n think once in a while. We don't do enough thinkin' here in this
part o' the country.'
'Yd orter buy this mare an learn how t' ride fast,' said Dean.
'Thet one,' said Uncle Eb, squinting at the mare, 'why she can't go
fast 'nough.'
'She can't, hey?' said Dean, bridling with injured pride. 'I don't
think there's anything in this town can head her.'
'Thunder!' said Uncle Eb, 'I can go by her with this ol' plug easy
'twixt here an' our gate. Ye didn't know what ye was sellin'.'
'If ye pass her once I'll give her to ye,' said he.
'Mean it?' said Uncle Eb.
'Sartin,' said he, a little redder in the face.
'An' if I don't I'll give ye the whistler,' said Uncle Eb as he turned
about.
The mare went away, under the whip, before we had fairly started.
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