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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Kicked by a boss; that's how it happened," was the significant answer. "Lord! I'm all shucked over t' one side can't ye see it?" "A list t' sta'b'rd that's what they call it, I believe," said the teacher. "See how I limp," Tunk went on, striding to show his pace. "Ain't it awful!" "How did that happen?" "Sprung my ex!" he answered, turning quickly with a significant look.
"Greased lightnin'!" said Tunk, shaking his head. "Won twenty-seven races." "You're a good deal of a horseman, I take it." said the teacher. "Wal, some," said he, expectorating thoughtfully. "But I don't have no chance here. What d'ye 'spect of a man livin, with them ol' maids ?" He seemed to have more contempt than his words would carry.
Don't I look as if I'd been used t' hosses. There ain't a bone in my body that ain't been kicked some on 'em two or three times. Don't ye notice how I walk? Heavens, man! I hed my ex sprung 'fore I was fifteen!" Tunk referred often and proudly to this early springing of his "ex," by which he meant probably that horse violence had bent him askew.
He sat a moment, thinking; then he rose, and began searching for tracks around the shanty. He found none, however, in the dead leaves which he could distinguish from those of Tunk and himself. "It must be from my father," said he, a thought that troubled him deeply, for it seemed to bring ill news that his father would never make himself known. "He must have seen me last night," Trove went on.
Tunk's conscience revived suddenly and seemed to put its hand over his mouth. "Joe Beach is goin' to be a doctor," Tunk went on presently. "I advised him to study medicine," Trove answered. "He's gone off t' school at Milldam an' is workin' like a beaver. He was purty rambunctious 'til you broke him to lead." They rode then to the foot of the hill in silence.
None the less, stout-hearted and firm of purpose, they serpented their painful way prone on the hot, dusty bosom of the Sahara. Fate for them and for all the Legion, lay on so slight a thing as the stirring of a twig, the tunk of a boot against a bleached camel's skull, the possibility of a sneeze or cough. Even the chance scaring-up of a hyena or a vagrant jackal might betray them.
That was the soap-box cart hitting against a tree. "Tunk! Tunk!" Those were the soft sounds Russ and Laddie made as they were spilled out on the grass near the lumberman's cabin. "Bow-wow!" That was Zip barking at the cat. "Hiss-siss!" That was the cat making queer noises at Zip. "Wow-ow-ow-Yelp!" That was Zip howling because the cat scratched his nose. For that's just what the cat did.
Hy-yah! hy-yah! hy-yah-yah-yah! an' all grievous, an' make no mistake! "At the first 'tunk! the bucks stiffen to their feet and cast off the blankets. Feathers, paint, an' bells! they blaze an' tinkle in the moonlight with a subdooed but savage elegance. They skates out onto the grass, stilt-laig, an' each buck for himse'f.
Tunk had arrived. He had a lump, the size of an apple,-on his forehead; another on his chin. As Trove approached him, he spat over a front wheel, and sat looking down sadly. "Tunk, what's the matter ?" "Kicked," said he, with growing sadness. "A horse?" Trove inquired, with sympathy. Tunk thought a moment. "Couldn't say what 'twas," he answered presently.
Trove went for the mare, and Tunk rode down the hill with him in the cutter. "Things here ain't what they used t' be," said Tunk. "No?" "Widder, she takes on awful. Great changes!" There was a moment of silence. "I ain't the same dum fool I used t' be," Tunk added presently. "What's happened to you?"
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