

2O4 



sorrels at the pole wear, instead, boughten 

 tassels. Far in front the trim dun leaders 

 show brown-ringed coon-tails at the bridle- 

 ear, nodding with each quick stride. So 

 Jim, the wagoner, has warded off " conjur- 

 ing ;" made it sure, in his own mind, his 

 team shall thrive, pull true to the last ounce, 

 nor balk in the dark at sight of ghosts. Jim 

 is innocent of book-learning, has never 

 heard of a fairy yet what he does not 

 know of mules, of " spells," is scarce worth 

 the telling. 



Wagoning, too. A science that, you may 

 take my word. See him sit so straight, so 

 light, in the saddle, there, on the nigh wheel- 

 er's back, his long whip limply trailing, his 

 single rein half clutched. The road turns 

 sharply through the open bars so sharply 

 you think a single span would have a care of 

 passing it how much more this long-drawn 

 team. To Jim and his sort it is less than 

 nothing. A quick wrist motion, two sharp 

 cracks of the whip in air unchecked the 

 leaders swing to the turn ; the wheelers fol- 

 low ; an inner wheel lifts a little, grinds 

 hoarsely, drops to earth, whirls inside the 

 field, missing by a foot the nigh post, against 

 which it seemed to you it must certainly go 

 full-tilt. This trick of wrist and eye this 



