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Updated: May 15, 2025
"No, indeed," she returned, while withering Hawker again. "Gee! Gee! Whoa! Haw! Git-ap! Haw! Whoa! Back!" After these two attacks Hawker became silent. "Gee! Gee! Gee there, blast s'cuse me. Gee! Whoa! Git-ap!" All the boarders of the inn were upon its porches waiting for the dinner gong.
Hawker said, "The others are a good ways ahead. Hadn't we better hurry a little?" The girl obediently mended her pace. "Whoa! haw! git-ap!" shouted the voice in the distance. "Git over there, Red, git over! Gee! Git-ap!" And these cries pursued the man and the maid. At last Hawker said, "That's my father." "Where?" she asked, looking bewildered. "Back there, driving those oxen."
Daggett meekly. "Mebbe she'd kind of hate to say 'no' before me. She's took a real liking to Henry.... Git-ap, Dolly.... And anyway, she's awful generous. I could say, kind of careless; 'If I was you, I'd take a leather-bound. Couldn't I, Lois?" "Well, you can come in, Abby, if you're so terrible anxious," relented Miss Daggett.
"Dolly's an awful knowing horse.... Git-ap, Dolly!" "Do you mean to tell me, Abby Daggett, that there horse of Henry's has took a spite against me?" demanded the spinster.... "Mebbe he's a mind-reader," she added darkly. "You know I didn't mean nothin' like that, Lois," her sister-in-law assured her pacifically.
The voice shouted: "Whoa! Git-ap! Gee! Red, git over there now, will you? I'll trim the shin off'n you in a minute. Whoa! Haw! Haw! Whoa! Git-ap!" Hawker repeated, "Yes, that's my father." "Oh, is it?" she said. "Let's wait for him." "All right," said Hawker sullenly. Presently a team of oxen waddled into view around the curve of the road.
The spinster turned and fixed a scornfully, intelligent gaze upon the mild, rosy countenance of her sister-in-law. "Oh, I see!" she sniffed. "That was where you was pointing for, all the while! And you didn't let on to me, oh, no!" "Now, Lois, don't you get excited," exhorted Mrs. Daggett. "It was just about the wall papers. Henry, he says to me this mornin' ... Git-ap, Dolly!"
There were sweet-smelling meadows stacked with newly-cured hay on either side of the road, and tufts of red clover blossoms exhaling delicious odors of honey almost under his saturnine nose; but he trotted ponderously on, sullenly aware of the gentle hand on the reins and the mild, persistent voice which bade him "Git-ap, Dolly!"
"Nor the git-ap," added Todd. "Does he know anything?" asked Whallen. "That's just what he does," answered Todd. "I threw a steer with him yesterday and he held it while I made a tie. A steer can't get any slack rope on him. He surprised me." "Who had him?" inquired Whallen. "Don't know. I bought him up at the county-seat.
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