THE COUNTRY BOY 33 



I pulled some volunteer oats and took them to 

 give him, also some burnt cookies Grandmother 

 gave me, as he always liked something sweet. 

 It was as perfect a day as you ever saw, the 

 sky was very high and blue and there was just 

 enough breeze blowing to move the leaves on 

 the trees. As I came to the pasture I was 

 slightly disappointed that Old John wasn't at 

 the bars to meet me. I could see, however, all 

 the stock up under a large spreading oak that 

 stood on top of the small rise we called "Snake 

 Hill." A lark was singing on top of a tree — 

 singing as if the yellow spot on his throat 

 would burst. I didn't see Old John, but saw 

 Old Charley, the yellow horse, standing with 

 his head down. Cattle stood close and more 

 than a hundred sheep stood silently by. Some 

 small lambs were playing on a log near, just 

 as small children might play at a funeral. 

 As I came closer, I saw in the shade of a 

 mighty oak, Old John lying dead. It seemed 

 to be, and undoubtedly was, understood by 

 everybody but the young lambs that there was 

 a funeral in progress. The yellow horse stood 

 partly over him with his nose resting on the 

 dead horse's shoulder. His big brown eyes 



