That hawss was in then, I will swear 'cause I 'member his halter-shank'd come untied and I fixed it. Ev'rythin' in th' garden was lovely 'cep' fur that 'damned hobo sneakin' round. He was gettin' a drink at th' trough an' I chased him. But he beat it up inta th' loft an' I'm that scared of fire," he ended lamely, "I never lock up fur that." Slavin nodded wisely. "Yes!
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