“Well, that’s what I think, and the other day pa and I were huskin’ corn in the barn, and there was a horse jibbed on our hill, and the driver got down and licked him with the butt end of his whip, and kicked him with his great cowhide boots, and I asked pa if I might take out a measure of oats and see if I couldn’t coax that horse to take his load up the hill—­you see pa owned a jibber once and I knew how he used to manage him.  And pa said I might, only I’d better look out or the fellow would use me as he was usin’ the horse.  But I wasn’t afraid, for he was half-drunk, and I knew I could clip it faster’n he could.

“Well, sir, I went out there and I stood around a while, and says I, ‘What’ll you bet I can’t get your horse to the top of the hill?’ And he said he wouldn’t bet a red cent.  ‘Well,’ says I,’will you let me try just for fun?’ and he said, ‘Yes, I might try all day if I wanted to.’  And I got him to stand one side, where the horse couldn’t see him, and I went up to the horse’s head and stroked his nose and gave him a handful of oats, just a little taste, you know, and when he was kind of calmed down I went a ways ahead holdin’ out the measure of oats, and if that horse didn’t follow me up that hill just as quiet as an old sheep, and the man he stood by and looked streaked, I tell you!”

Sammy told his story with considerable animation and some forcible gestures.

“That was well done,” said Miss Ruth, “and I hope the cruel fellow profited by the lesson you gave him.  I don’t think I’m naturally vindictive, but when I see a man beating a horse I find myself wishing I was strong enough to snatch the whip from him and lay it well about his own shoulders.  But come, boys, the fire is down to coals—­just right for popping corn.  Sammy, you know the way to the kitchen.  Ask Lovina for the corn-popper and a dish, and, Roy, you’ll find a paper bag full of corn in the cupboard yonder.  Quick, now, and we’ll have the dish piled by the time Susie and Mollie are back from meeting.”

“Haven’t we had a gay old time,” said Roy, on the way home, “and ain’t you glad I put you up to coming, Sam Ray?” And Sammy admitted that he was.

* * * * *

“Now, girls and boys,” said Miss Ruth, on the next Wednesday afternoon, “I am going to take you on a long journey,—­in fancy, I mean,—­over the hills and plains and valleys, to the country of the Far West, with its rolling prairies and big fields of wheat and corn.  You shall be set down in a green meadow, with a stream running through it, shallow and clear at this time of year, but a little later, when the September rains have filled it, rushing along full of deep, muddy water.

“Under a big oak in about the middle of the pasture you will find an old horse feeding.  He is fat and sleepy looking, and has a kind face, and a white spot on his forehead.  This is Old Star, Farmer Horton’s family-horse.  You may pat his neck and stroke his nose and feed him a cookie or a bit of gingerbread,—­I am afraid the old fellow hasn’t teeth enough left to chew an apple,—­and then you may sit near him on the grass, and while I read aloud to you, fancy that he is talking, and, if you have plenty of imagination, you will get