Lewisburg Chronicle

Bob Wadden's Horse Trade.

"You know Bob Wadden, I guess?" said Uncle Mike.

"Not that I recollect," I replied.

"Well, Bob was an amazing hand at trading horses, and generally came out ahead, too. I never knew him really girdled and the underbrush cut, but once."

"How was that, Uncle?"

"Why, you see, Bob had been getting a gray horse in some of his dealings, that was just about as nice a horse to look at as ever put his nose through the rack-sticks: he was a human-looking horse, and nothing shorter; he was always looking after stars, and carried his tail like the national flag on the Fourth of July; but he wouldn't work—he was above it; he'd almost stop when he saw his shadow following him, for fear he might be drawing it.

"'Now, then,' says Bob, 'some individual is bound to be picked up.'

"So, making an excuse that old Gray's shoes wanted fixing, he sent him to the blacksmith's, harnessed up his other horses, hitched them to a wagon-load of stone, drove down to Sam Hewett's, stopped before the door, took out the near horse and harnessed up the Gray in his place, went in, took a drink, and waited around till some feller should come along who wanted to speculate.

He hadn't waited long when he seen some feller coming down the road like all creation, his horse under a full run, while he was sawing the bits and hollering 'wo! wo!' with all his might and main. He managed to stop him after a little by Sam Hewett's, and turning him around he came up slapping his hands, and in a tearing passion with his horse:

"'He's never ready to stop,' says he, 'that horse ain't, and though he's the best horse I ever owned, yet I'm determined to get shut of him.'

"Well, just then out comes Bob, and mounted his wagon just as if he was going to drive off, when says he:

"'Hollo, stranger, perhaps you'd like to deal with me for a steady one?'

"'Why, yes,' said the stranger, 'I would like something a little more quiet than that go-ahead rascal of mine.'

"So Bob looked at the Sorrel, and found him a square-built animal, his eye full of fire, and every muscle in play.

"Well,' says Bob, after a few words with me, 'there's my Gray—here's your Sorrel: what's your proposition?'

"'Now you're talking,' said the stranger, examining the Gray as he stood hitched to the load of stone. 'I'll give you the Sorrel and the best forty dollar clock in my wagon for the gray.'

"'Done!' said Bob, just unhitch.

"Neither of them asked t'other any questions, 'cause neither of them wanted to answer any. The horses were exchanged. Bob got his clock, and the stranger got into his wagon, took up his lines, and, bidding 'em good bye, was about to start, when the Gray put a stop to it and wouldn't budge a hair. In vain did the stranger whip and coax—not an inch could he get.

"There sat Bob, laughing in his sleeve, almost ready to burst, to see how the stranger was trying to start and couldn't. Not a word did the stranger say, however, but, after he had got quite tired, and given up trying it any more, he came and sat down on the horseblock.

"Bob thought he might as well be going; so, picking up the ribbons—'go along,' says he. The Sorrel turned his head and looked back at him, as much as to say 'Don't you wish I would?' but didn't stir or pull.

In vain Bob coaxed and patted: Sorrel was there and wasn't anywhere else.

"Well, I reckon it's my turn to laugh, now,' said the stranger: 'I suppose you'll call again when you come to town.'

"'Oh, never mind,' says Bob, 'Sorrel will go, or else you couldn't get here with him.'

"'O, yes,' said the stranger, 'you can start him, if you only bring some shavings, and kindle a fire under him, as I did.'

"Then he laughed again, and when I came away, they were playing a game to see who should take 'em both."