106 BILL HOOD. 



them poke along at their own gait, but it was too late, 

 as my picture horse began to twitch his ears, then 

 shake his head, and finally trembled all over like a 

 leaf on a poplar tree. I pulled out my knife and was 

 ready to bleed him if he should drop ; but he stopped 

 short of that, and after a breathing spell I jogged 

 home." 



At this point Bill Hood looked across the table at 

 George, the proprietor of the house, and in a drawling 

 Mark Twain style, asked him to tell the next chapter 

 while he walked over to the store to buy a few things. 

 Without a moment's hesitation the landlord laid his 

 pipe on the table, and after taking a nip "to get every- 

 thing in running order," as he remarked, when pour- 

 ing it out, started with a narrative that did not appear 

 to me to have any connection with Bill Hood or his 

 trade. Stripped of what he considered clever re- 

 marks, his story was as follows : 



"There is always more horse selling and trading at 

 the March fair than at any of the other three during 

 the year. Those who are looking for two or three 

 horses to put in the crops with are in the market and 

 will buy, while the stock which has been wintered 

 carefully or otherwise, is offered for sale at that time. 

 Then you can always look for the out-of-town buyers. 

 They come here regularly, and when a buyer sees a 

 sound one that will do for the city trade he picks it up 

 at a fair price. It is true that they buy close, but not 

 as close as the horse dealer, who usually has three or 

 four he has been patching up on soft feed all winter 

 and will not make a deal unless they can slip one in. 

 Not one of them but knows that a good horse does not 

 eat any more than a skate, and if they can make a turn 



