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Then it trotted repeatedly around the pasture-lot, occasionally sticking its head over the top rails, as if it had a notion to jump the fence and run away. During the day it fed on the grass in the school-house yard, and every day at noon she took it over to Sapp's, drew water from their well, and gave it as many bucketfuls as it would drink.
Hamburger smoked harder than ever and looked down at the hole. "Hark! Hear dem? It is de tog. Pless mein eyes, if dey didn't chase dose vootshuck right oonder mein pasture-lot!" Julius could hear Quib bark now, away down there in the ground, and he could not stand still on any one side of that hollow. So he danced up and down on every side of it.
The day on which I was twelve years old my father said to me: "Samuel, walk down the lane with me to the pasture-lot; I want to show you something." Never suspicioning anything, I trudged along with father, and what should I find in the pasture lot but the cunningest, prettiest, liveliest colt a boy ever clapped eyes on! "That is my birthday present to you," said father.
The June night was pulsing with life. Above him bats darted in short circling flights. In the corn-field and pasture-lot the fireflies lifted from their day-long sleep, showing pale points of light in the half darkness, while from some distant pond or stagnant watercourse came the booming of frogs, presently to swell into a resonant chorus.
I can see a streak of light. It's like climbing up an old chimney. Quib's almost on him." All that time, while they were groping through that cave, Julius Davis was looking around the pasture-lot after them. He would have been glad of a small glimpse of Quib, but all he had found as yet was Mr.
Twice a day I used to trudge down the lane to the pasture-lot to look at the colt, and invariably I was accompanied by a troop of boy acquaintances who heartily envied me my good luck, and who regaled me constantly with suggestions of what they would do if Royal were their colt.
When the good man reached the little pasture-lot, thinly scattered over with apple-trees, in which half-a-dozen fine cows grazed over night, he found aunt Hannah beneath one of the largest trees, seated upon her stool, and milking what she called the "hardest" cow of the lot.
Dey vill preak dare little necks. Joost see how dey run! But de tog is de pest runner of dem poys, egsept de vootchuck." Mr. Hamburger did not run. Nobody had ever seen him do any such thing as that. But he walked on across the pasture-lot, toward the deep ravine that cut through the side of the hill to the valley.
There was a little path through the orchard out to a small elevation in the pasture-lot behind, whence the sea was distinctly visible, and Mary had often used her low-silled window as a door when she wanted to pass out thither; so now she stepped out, and, gathering her skirts back from the dewy grass, walked thoughtfully along the path and gained the hill.
" Citizen, can be daily seen wandering from the far end of his pasture-lot to the other far end of it." "'His!" exclaimed Parker. "'His pasture-lot? The Jersey's?" "No," returned the other, meekly, "Bib Jones's." "Oh," said Parker. "Is that the end of that item? It is!
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