Suggs, however, prevented his making any discoveries. He fell into a
brown study, and no further allusion was made to the matter.
It was evident to our hero that his father intended he should remain but
one more night beneath the paternal roof. What mattered it to Simon?
He went home at night; curried and fed Bunch; whispered confidentially
in his ear that he was the "fastest piece of hossflesh, accordin' to
size, that ever shaded the yearth;" and then busied himself in preparing
for an early start on the morrow.
Old Mr. Suggs' big red rooster had hardly ceased crowing in announcement
of the coming dawn, when Simon mounted the intractable Bunch. Both were
in high spirits: our hero at the idea of unrestrained license in future;
and Bunch from a mesmerical transmission to himself of a portion of his
master's deviltry. Simon raised himself in the stirrups, yelled a
tolerably fair imitation of the Creek war-whoop, and shouted:
"I'm off, old stud! Remember the Jack-a-hearts!"
Bunch shook his little head, tucked down his tail, ran sideways, as if
going to fall, and then suddenly reared, squealed, and struck off at a
brisk gallop.
A PIANO IN ARKANSAS
BY THOMAS BANGS THORPE
We shall never forget the excitement which seized upon the inhabitants
of the little village of Hardscrabble as the report spread through the
community that a real piano had actually arrived within its precincts.
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