Davy and The Goblin Part 9

Presently there was a clattering of hoofs behind him, and Ribsy came galloping along the road, with nothing on him but his collar. He was holding his big head high in the air, like a giraffe, and gazing proudly about him as he ran. He stopped short when he saw the little boy, and, giving a triumphant whistle, said cheerfully, "How are you again?"

It seemed rather strange to be spoken to by a cab-horse, but Davy answered that he was feeling quite well.

"So am I," said Ribsy. "The fact is, that when it comes to beating a horse about the head with a three-legged stool, if that horse is going to leave at all, it's time he was off."

"I should think it was," said Davy, earnestly.

"You'll observe, of course, that I've kept on my shoes and my collar,"

said Ribsy. "It isn't genteel to go barefoot, and nothing makes a fellow look so untidy as going about without a collar. The truth is," he continued, sitting down in the road on his hind legs,--"the truth is, I'm not an ordinary horse, by any means. I have a history, and I've arranged it in a popular form, in six canters,--I mean cantos," he added, hastily correcting himself.

"I'd like to hear it, if you please," said Davy, politely.

"Well, I'm a little hoa.r.s.e,"--began Ribsy.

"I think you're a very big horse," said Davy, in great surprise.

"I'm referring to my voice," said Ribsy, haughtily. "Be good enough not to interrupt me again;" and, giving two or three preliminary whistles to clear his throat, he began:--

_It's very confining, this living in stables, And pa.s.sing one's time among wagons and carts; I much prefer dining at gentlemen's tables, And living on turkeys and cranberry tarts._

_I find with surprise that I'm constantly sneezing; I'm stiff in the legs, and I'm often for sale; And the blue-bottle flies, with their tiresome teasing, Are quite out of reach of my weary old tail._

"By the way," said Ribsy, getting up and turning himself around, "what does my tail look like?"

"I think," said Davy, after a careful inspection, "I think it looks something like an old paint-brush."

"So I supposed," said Ribsy, gloomily, and, sitting down again, he went on with his history:--

_As spry as a kid and as trim as a spider Was I in the days of the Turnip-top Hunt, When I used to get rid of the weight of my rider And canter contentedly in at the front._

_I never was told that this jocular feature Of mine was a trick reprehensibly rude, And yet I was sold, like a commonplace creature, To work in a circus for lodgings and food._

"I suppose you have never been a circus-horse?" said Ribsy, stopping short in his verses again and gazing inquiringly at Davy.

"Never," said Davy.

"Then you don't know anything about it," said Ribsy. "Here we go again:"--

_Pray why, if you please, should a capable charger Perform on a ladder and prance in a show?

And why should his knees be made thicker and larger By teaching him tricks that he'd rather not know?_

_Oh! why should a horse, for society fitted, Be doomed to employment so utterly bad, And why should a coa.r.s.e-looking man be permitted To dance on his back on a top-heavy pad?_

Here Ribsy paused once more, and Davy, feeling that he ought to make some sort of an answer to such a lot of questions, said helplessly, "I don't know."

"No more do I," said Ribsy, tossing his head scornfully.

_It made me a wreck, with no hope of improvement, Too feeble to race with an invalid crab; I'm wry in the neck, with a rickety movement Peculiarly suited for drawing a cab._

_They pinch me with straps, and they bruise me with buckles, They drive me too rapidly over the stones;-- A reason, perhaps, why a number of knuckles Have lately appeared on my prominent bones._

"I see them," cried Davy, eagerly; "I thought they were corns."

"Thank you," said Ribsy, haughtily. "As the next verse is the last you needn't trouble yourself to make any further observations."

_I dream of a spot which I used to roam over In infancy's days, with a frolicsome skip, Content with my lot, which was planted with clover, And never annoyed by the crack of a whip._

_But I think my remarks will determine the question, Of why I am bony and thin as a rail; I'm off for some larks, to improve my digestion, And point the stern moral conveyed by my tail._

Here Ribsy got upon his legs again, and, after a refreshing fillip with his heels, cantered off along the road, whistling as he went. Two large blue-bottle flies were on his back, and his tail was flying around, with an angry whisk, like a pin-wheel; but, as he disappeared in the distance, the flies were still sitting calmly on the ridge of his spine, apparently enjoying the scenery.

Davy was about to start out again on his journey, when he heard a voice shouting "Hi! Hi!" and, looking back, he saw the poor cabman coming along the road on a brisk trot, dragging his cab after him. He had on Ribsy's harness, and seemed to be in a state of tremendous excitement.

As he came up with Davy the door of the cab flew open again, and the three-legged stools came tumbling out, followed by a dense cloud of dust.

"Get in! Get in!" shouted the cabman, excitedly. "Never mind the dust; I've turned it on to make believe we're going tremendously fast."

Davy hastily scrambled in, and the cabman started off again. The dust was pouring out of both faucets, and a heavy shower of gravel was rattling into the bath-tub; and, to make matters worse, the cabman was now going along at such an astonishing speed that the cab rocked violently from side to side, like a boat in a stormy sea. Davy made a frantic attempt to shut off the dust, but it seemed to come faster and faster, until he was almost choked, and by this time the gravel had become as large as cherry-stones, and was flying around in the cab and rattling about his ears like a little hail-storm. Now, all this was a great deal more than Davy had bargained for, and it was so very unpleasant that he presently sat down on the floor of the cab in the hope of getting a little out of the way of the flying gravel. As he did this the rocking motion became less violent, and then ceased altogether, as though the cabman had suddenly come to a stop. Then the dust cleared away, and Davy, to his surprise, found himself sitting in the road directly in front of the little house that Jack built.

The cabman and his cab had vanished entirely, but, curiously enough, the cab door was standing wide open in the wall of the house, just above the porch, and in the opening stood the red Cow gazing down upon him, and solemnly chewing, as before. The house had such a familiar look to him that Davy felt quite at home; and, moreover, the Cow seemed quite like an old acquaintance, compared with the other creatures he had met, and he was just about to begin a friendly conversation with her, when she suddenly stopped chewing, and said, "How did _you_ get here?"

"I came in a cab," said Davy. "We came along just behind the horse."

"People in cabs usually do," said the Cow; "leastwise I never heard of any of 'em being ahead of him."

"But this horse was running away, you know," said Davy.

"Where was the cabman?" said the Cow, suspiciously.

"He was drawing the cab," said Davy.

"What!" exclaimed the Cow,--"while the horse was running away? Oh, come, I say!"

"He was, truly," said Davy, laughing; "you never saw anything half so ridiculous."

"I certainly never did--that I can remember," said the Cow; "but then, you see, I haven't always been a cow."

"Really?" said Davy.

"Really," said the Cow, very solemnly. "The fact is, I've been changed."

"And what did you use to be?" said Davy, who was now fully prepared for something marvellous.

"A calf," said the Cow, with a curious rumbling chuckle.

"I don't think _that's_ a very good joke," said the disappointed little boy.

"It's a deal funnier than your cab story," said the Cow. "And, what's more, it's true! Good-afternoon." And with this the Cow disappeared from the opening, and the cab door shut to with a loud bang.