46 The Wild-Fowlers 



Around the corner in a side street Seth 

 supported a shelter stall and wagon space, 

 and thither he and the dog proceeded. 



' My horse! my horse!" cried Seth, 

 looking into the stable office door, as Don 

 went familiarly into the wagonway and 

 plunged both forefeet into the water tub 

 and drank freely; " my horse, but not a 

 kingdom for it. Hello, Gray," he con- 

 tinued, addressing one of the firm; "still 

 sitting 'round talking horse, eh ? They 

 say shoemakers are out at the toes and 

 tailors out at the knees, and I guess 

 stablemen are just as bad, because 

 they 're never out any place or any time. 

 I wish I had the time you stable fellows 

 have I 'd wear out wagons and burn 

 powder to ten times the extent I do now. 

 Say, do you ever drive or ride ? I never 

 knew a liveryman to do anything but sit 

 around his office; he 's worse than a 

 cobbler. ' ' 



"And what do you shooters do besides 

 smoke and eat and tell lies?" fairly 



