"Horses first," said Ump, taking up a split basket.
"Suit yourself," said Roy; "there 's nobody holdin' you, an' there 's corn in the crib, hay in the mow, an' oats in the entry."
Jud and I followed Ump out of the house, put the horses in the log stable, pulled off the bridles and saddles, and crammed the racks with the sweet-smelling clover hay. Then we brushed out the mangers and threw in the white corn. When we were done we went swaggering back to the house.
From threatened disaster we had come desperately ashore. Whence arises the strange pride of him who by sheer accident slips through the fingers of Destiny?
We ate our supper under the onslaughts of the tavern-keeper. Roy had a mind to know why we hurried. He scented some reason skulking in the background, and he beat across the field like a setter.
"You 'll want to get out early," he said. "Men who swim cattle won't be lettin' grass grow under their feet."
"Bright an' early," replied Ump.
