The carrousel being at rest when we approached, they gravely examined each one of the painted wooden effigies, looking into such of the mouths as were open, and cautiously feeling the forelegs of the different mounts, keeping up an elaborate pretence the while that the beasts were real and that they were in danger of being kicked. One absurdly painted horse they agreed would be the most difficult to ride. Examining his mouth, they disputed as to his age, and called the cabby to have his opinion of the thing’s fetlocks, warning each other to beware of his rearing. The cabby, who was doubtless also intoxicated, made an equal pretence of the beast’s realness, and indulged, I gathered, in various criticisms of its legs at great length. “I think he’s right,” remarked the Tuttle person when the cabby had finished. “It’s a bad case of splints. The leg would be blistered if I had him.” “I wouldn’t give him corral room,” said Cousin Egbert. “He’s a bad actor. Look at his eye! Whoa! there--you would, would you!” Here he made a pretence that the beast had seized him by the shoulder. “He’s a man-eater! What did I tell you? Keep him away!” “I’ll take that out of him,” said the Tuttle person. “I’ll show him who’s his master.” “You ain’t never going to try to ride him, Jeff? Think of the wife and little ones!” “You know me, Sour-dough. No horse never stepped out from under me yet. I’ll not only ride him, but I’ll put a silver dollar in each stirrup and give you a thousand for each one I lose and a thousand for every time I touch leather.” Cousin Egbert here began to plead tearfully: “Don’t do it, Jeff--come on around here. There’s a big five-year-old roan around here that will be safe as a church for you. Let that pinto alone. They ought to be arrested for having him here.” But the other seemed obdurate. “Start her up, Professor, when I give the word!” he called to the proprietor, and handed him one of the French banknotes. “Play it all out!” he directed, as this person gasped with amazement. Cousin Egbert then proceeded to the head of the beast. “You’ll have to blind him,” he said. “Sure!” replied the other, and with loud and profane cries to the animal they bound a handkerchief about his eyes. “I can tell he’s going to be a twister,” warned Cousin Egbert. “I better ear him,” and to my increased amazement he took one of the beast’s leather ears between his teeth and held it tightly. Then with soothing words to the supposedly dangerous animal, the Tuttle person mounted him. “Let him go!” he called to Cousin Egbert, who released the ear from between his teeth.