The Day's Work Part 6

"An' Man the Oppressor sets an' gloats over you, same as he's settin'

now. Hain't that been your experience, madam?"

This last remark was addressed to Tedda; and any one could see with half an eye that poor, old anxious, fidgety Tedda, stamping at the flies, must have left a wild and tumultuous youth behind her.

"'Pends on the man," she answered, shifting from one foot to the other, and addressing herself to the home horses. "They abused me dreffle when I was young. I guess I was sperrity an' nervous some, but they didn't allow for that. 'Twas in Monroe County, Noo York, an' sence then till I come here, I've run away with more men than 'u'd fill a boardin'-house.

Why, the man that sold me here he says to the boss, s' he: 'Mind, now, I've warned you. 'Twon't be none of my fault if she sheds you daown the road. Don't you drive her in a top-buggy, ner 'thout winkers,' s' he, 'ner 'thought this bit ef you look to come home behind her.' 'N' the fust thing the boss did was to git the top-buggy.

"Can't say as I like top-buggies," said Rick; "they don't balance good."

"Suit me to a ha'ar," said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. "Top-buggy means the baby's in behind, an' I kin stop while she gathers the pretty flowers--yes, an' pick a maouthful, too. The women-folk all say I hev to be humoured, an' I don't kerry things to the sweatin'-point."

"'Course I've no prejudice against a top-buggy s' long's I can see it,"

Tedda went on quickly. "It's ha'f-seein' the pesky thing bobbin' an'

balancn' behind the winkers gits on my nerves. Then the boss looked at the bit they'd sold with me, an' s' he: 'Jiminy Christmas! This 'u'd make a clothes-horse Stan' 'n end!' Then he gave me a plain bar bit, an'

fitted it's if there was some feelin' to my maouth."

"Hain't ye got any, Miss Tedda?" said Tuck, who has a mouth like velvet, and knows it.

"Might 'a' had, Miss Tuck, but I've forgot. Then he give me an open bridle,--my style's an open bridle--an'--I dunno as I ought to tell this by rights--he--give--me--a kiss."

"My!" said Tuck, "I can't tell fer the shoes o' me what makes some men so fresh."

"Pshaw, sis," said Nip, "what's the sense in actin' so? You git a kiss reg'lar's. .h.i.tchin'-up time."

"Well, you needn't tell, smarty," said Tuck, with a squeal and a kick.

"I'd heard o' kisses, o' course," Tedda went on, "but they hadn't come my way specially. I don't mind tellin' I was that took aback at that man's doin's he might ha' lit fire-crackers on my saddle. Then we went out jest's if a kiss was nothin', an' I wasn't three strides into my gait 'fore I felt the boss knoo his business, an' was trustin' me. So I studied to please him, an' he never took the whip from the dash--a whip drives me plumb distracted--an' the upshot was that--waal, I've come up the Back Pasture to-day, an' the coupe's tipped clear over twice, an'

I've waited till 'twuz fixed each time. You kin judge for yourselves. I don't set up to be no better than my neighbours,--specially with my tail snipped off the way 'tis,--but I want you all to know Tedda's quit fightin' in harness or out of it, 'cep' when there's a born fool in the pasture, stuffin' his stummick with board that ain't rightly hisn, 'cause he hain't earned it."

"Meanin' me, madam?" said the yellow horse.

"Ef the shoe fits, clinch it," said Tedda, snorting. "I named no names, though, to be sure, some folks are mean enough an' greedy enough to do 'thout 'em."

"There's a deal to be forgiven to ignorance," said the yellow horse, with an ugly look in his blue eye.

"Seemin'ly, yes; or some folks 'u'd ha' been kicked raound the pasture 'bout onct a minute sence they came--board er no board."

"But what you do not understand, if you will excuse me, madam, is that the whole principle o' servitood, which includes keep an' feed, starts from a radically false basis; an' I am proud to say that me an' the majority o' the horses o' Kansas think the entire concern should be relegated to the limbo of exploded superst.i.tions. I say we're too progressive for that. I say we're too enlightened for that. 'Twas good enough's long's we didn't think, but naow--but naow--a new loominary has arisen on the horizon!"

"Meanin' you?" said the Deacon.

"The horses o' Kansas are behind me with their mult.i.toodinous thunderin'

hooves, an' we say, simply but grandly, that we take our stand with all four feet on the inalienable rights of the horse, pure and simple,--the high-toned child o' nature, fed by the same wavin' gra.s.s, cooled by the same ripplin' brook--yes, an' warmed by the same gen'rous sun as falls impartially on the outside an' the inside of the pampered machine o'

the trottin'-track, or the bloated coupe-horses o' these yere Eastern cities. Are we not the same flesh an' blood?"

"Not by a bushel an' a half," said the Deacon, under his breath.

"Grandee never was in Kansas."

"My! Ain't that elegant, though, abaout the wavin' gra.s.s an' the ripplin' brooks?" Tuck whispered in Nip's ear. "The gentleman's real convincin' I think."

"I say we are the same flesh an' blood! Are we to be separated, horse from horse, by the artificial barriers of a trottin'-record, or are we to look down upon each other on the strength o' the gifts o' nature--an extry inch below the knee, or slightly more powerful quarters? What's the use o' them advantages to you? Man the Oppressor comes along, an'

sees you're likely an' good-lookin', an' grinds you to the face o' the earth. What for? For his own pleasure: for his own convenience! Young an' old, black an' bay, white an' grey, there's no distinctions made between us. We're ground up together under the remorseless teeth o' the engines of oppression!"

"Guess his breechin' must ha' broke goin' daown-hill," said the Deacon.

"Slippery road, maybe, an' the buggy come onter him, an' he didn't know 'nough to hold back. That don't feel like teeth, though. Maybe he busted a shaft, an' it p.r.i.c.ked him."

"An' I come to you from Kansas, wavin' the tail o' friendship to all an' sundry, an' in the name of the uncounted millions o' pure-minded, high-toned horses now strugglin' towards the light o' freedom, I say to you, Rub noses with us in our sacred an' holy cause. The power is yourn.

Without you, I say, Man the Oppressor cannot move himself from place to place. Without you he cannot reap, he cannot sow, he cannot plough."

"Mighty odd place, Kansas!" said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. "Seemin'ly they reap in the spring an' plough in the fall. 'Guess it's right fer them, but 'twould make me kinder giddy."

"The produc's of your untirin' industry would rot on the ground if you did not weakly consent to help him. Let 'em rot, I say! Let him call you to the stables in vain an' nevermore! Let him shake his ensnarin' oats under your nose in vain! Let the Brahmas roost in the buggy, an' the rats run riot round the reaper! Let him walk on his two hind feet till they blame well drop off! Win no more soul-destroyn' races for his pleasure! Then, an' not till then, will Man the Oppressor know where he's at. Quit workin', fellow-sufferers an' slaves! Kick! Rear! Plunge!

Lie down on the shafts, an' woller! Smash an' destroy! The conflict will be but short, an' the victory is certain. After that we can press our inalienable rights to eight quarts o' oats a day, two good blankets, an'

a fly-net an' the best o' stablin'."

The yellow horse shut his yellow teeth with a triumphant snap; and Tuck said, with a sigh: "Seems's if somethin' ought to be done. Don't seem right, somehow,--oppressin' us an all,--to my way o' thinkin'."

Said Muldoon, in a far-away and sleepy voice:

"Who in Vermont's goin' to haul de inalienable oats? Dey weigh like Sam Hill, an' sixty bushel at dat allowance ain't goin' to last t'ree weeks here. An' dere's de winter hay for five mont's!"

"We can settle those minor details when the great cause is won," said the yellow horse. "Let us return simply but grandly to our inalienable rights--the right o' freedom on these yere verdant hills, an' no invijjus distinctions o' track an' pedigree:"

"What in stables 'jer call an invijjus distinction?" said the Deacon, stiffly.

"Fer one thing, bein' a bloated, pampered trotter jest because you happen to be raised that way, an' couldn't no more help trottin' than eatin'."

"Do ye know anythin' about trotters?" said the Deacon.

"I've seen 'em trot. That was enough for me. I don't want to know any more. Trottin''s immoral."

"Waal, I'll tell you this much. They don't bloat, an' they don't pamp--much. I don't hold out to be no trotter myself, though I am free to say I had hopes that way--onct. But I do say, fer I've seen 'em trained, that a trotter don't trot with his feet: he trots with his head; an' he does more work--ef you know what that is--in a week than you er your sire ever done in all your lives. He's everlastingly at it, a trotter is; an' when he isn't, he's studyin' haow. You seen 'em trot? Much you hev! You was. .h.i.tched to a rail, back o' the stand, in a buckboard with a soap-box nailed on the slats, an' a frowzy buff'lo atop, while your man peddled rum fer lemonade to little boys as thought they was actin' manly, till you was both run off the track an'

jailed--you intoed, shufflin', sway-backed, wind-suckin' skate, you!"

"Don't get het up, Deacon," said Tweezy, quietly. "Now, suh, would you consider a fox-trot, an' single-foot, an' rack, an' pace, an' amble, distinctions not worth distinguishin'? I a.s.suah you, gentlemen, there was a time befo' I was afflicted in my hip, if you'll pardon me, Miss Tuck, when I was quite celebrated in Paduky for all those gaits; an in my opinion the Deacon's co'rect when he says that a ho'se of any position in society gets his gaits by his haid, an' not by--his, ah, limbs, Miss Tuck. I reckon I'm very little good now, but I'm rememberin'

the things I used to do befo' I took to transpo'tin' real estate with the help an' a.s.sistance of this gentleman here." He looked at Muldoon.

"Invijjus arterficial hind legs!" said the ex-carhorse, with a grunt of contempt. "On de Belt Line we don't reckon no horse wuth his keep 'less he kin switch de car off de track, run her round on de cobbles, an' dump her in ag'in ahead o' de truck what's blockin' him. Dere is a way o'

swingin' yer quarters when de driver says, 'Yank her out, boys!' dat takes a year to learn. Onct yer git onter it, youse kin yank a cable-car outer a manhole. I don't advertise myself for no circus-horse, but I knew dat trick better than most, an' dey was good to me in de stables, fer I saved time on de Belt--an' time's what dey hunt in N' York."

"But the simple child o' nature--" the yellow horse began.

"Oh, go an' unscrew yer splints! You're talkin' through yer bandages,"

said Muldoon, with a horse-laugh. "Dere ain't no loose-box for de simple child o' nature on de Belt Line, wid de Paris comin' in an' de Teutonic goin' out, an' de trucks an' de coupe's sayin' things, an' de heavy freight movin' down fer de Boston boat 'bout t'ree o'clock of an August afternoon, in de middle of a hot wave when de fat Kanucks an' Western horses drops dead on de block. De simple child o' nature had better chase himself inter de water. Every man at de end of his lines is mad or loaded or silly, an' de cop's madder an' loadeder an' sillier than de rest. Dey all take it outer de horses. Dere's no wavin' brooks ner ripplin' gra.s.s on de Belt Line. Run her out on de cobbles wid de sparks flyin', an' stop when de cop slugs you on de bone o' yer nose. Dat's N'York; see?

"I was always told s'ciety in Noo York was dreffle refined an'

high-toned," said Tuck. "We're lookin' to go there one o' these days, Nip an' me."