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But one day, when the boy fell into a rage, for he, too, had a difficult temper, and declared that he would sell her and go forth from Poor Valley never to return, he was met by the question, "Hain't the mare lived off'n my fields, an' hain't I gin ye yer grub, an' clothes, an' the roof that kivers ye?" Thus Pearce Tallam had disputed his right to sell the mare.
He understood in an instant that Jube had slipped the animal out of the barn, and was hiding him in the misty woods, expecting that Ike would acquaint his father with the facts. He had so managed that these facts would seem lies, if Pearce Tallam should examine the premises and find no horse there. All the next day the white mist clung shroud-like to Poor Valley.
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