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Updated: April 30, 2025
"But what's he carrying?" cried Ruth excitedly, as she peered eagerly from under her shading hand. "Look. Across his saddle. Rifles! Two of them!" Brom Bones, sensing the girl's excitement, was already pulling at his bit, eager for a wild race down the hill. But Jeffrey, after one long, sharp look at the oncoming horseman, pulled in quietly to the side of the road. And Ruth did the same.
Dirck was the only person present who looked grave; but Dirck was habitually as grave and sedate, as if he had been born to become a burgomaster. "Quite right, Brom," cried my father; "colonels are good enough for us; and when we do make a man that, even, we are a little particular about his being respectable and fit for the office.
Brom Bones was standing munching twigs where she had left him. He had never before been asked to carry double and he did not like it. But the girl pleaded so pitifully and so gently into his silky black ear that he finally gave in.
This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvellous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the Galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey.
It needed only the excited, happy touch of her hand to set Brom Bones whirling up the road, for the big colt understood her ways and moods and followed them better than he would have followed whip or rein of another. Half-way, she pulled the big fellow down to a decorous canter and gradually slowed down to a walk as Jeffrey came thundering down upon them.
He did not know what it meant. Nothing like that had ever been a part of Brom Bones' scheme of life, for he had always gone as fast as he was let go. But it did not need the stroke of the whip to madden him. Down across the slope of the hill in front of him he saw a great, red terror racing towards the road which he travelled.
But what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's, to instruct her in psalmody.
But, what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's, to instruct her in psalmody.
From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he had received the nickname of BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar.
He frequently came up the Angevine-home hill to tell, between his apples, nuts, and glasses of cider, tales of what he, too, knew, to a good listener, the master of the house. Then there was "Major Brom B., a hero of the great war, with his twenty-seven martial spirits, all uniformed in silver gray, his negro Bonny and his gun, 'the Bucanneer, had not its fellow on the continent."
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