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"From what I can see there isn't one of them you could call angelic." "Thar's ther meanest bunch o' horse meat thet ever come ter this man's ranch, bar none, an' ther prize devil o' ther lot is thet black demon in thar. He near broke my pony's leg a minute ago with a stem-windin' kick sech ez I never see before. Thet hoss is shore double-j'inted."
"It's a stem-windin', self-actin' proposition that's wound up, and is now tickin' smooth and reg'lar," said the Cap'n, with deep conviction. "They'll both get it!" And they did. Cap'n Aaron Sproul and Hiram Look shook hands on the news before nine o'clock the next morning. Mr. Loammi Crowther plodded up the road. Mr. Eleazar Bodge stumped down the road.
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