Then Tweezy lifted up his wise and polite old head. His affliction makes him bashful as a rule, but he is ever the most courteous of horses. “Excuse me, suh,” he said slowly, “but, unless I have been misinfohmed, most of your prominent siahs, suh, are impo’ted from Kentucky; an’ _I_’m from Paduky.” There was the least little touch of pride in the last words. “Any horse dat knows beans,” said Muldoon, suddenly (he had been standing with his hairy chin on Tweezy’s broad quarters), “gits outer Kansas ’fore dey crip his shoes. I blew in dere from Ioway in de days o’ me youth an’ innocence, an’ I wuz grateful when dey boxed me fer N’ York. You can’t tell _me_ anything about Kansas I don’t wanter fergit. De Belt Line stables ain’t no Hoffman House, but dey’re Vanderbilts ’longside o’ Kansas.” “What the horses o’ Kansas think to-day, the horses of America will think to-morrow; an’ I tell _you_ that when the horses of America rise in their might, the day o’ the Oppressor is ended.” There was a pause, till Rick said, with a little grunt: “Ef you put it that way, every one of us has riz in his might, ’cep’ Marcus, mebbe. Marky, ’j ever rise in yer might?” “Nope,” said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, thoughtfully quidding over a mouthful of grass. “I seen a heap o’ fools try, though.” “You admit that you riz?” said the Kansas horse, excitedly. “Then why—why in Kansas did you ever go under again?” “Horse can’t walk on his hind legs _all_ the time,” said the Deacon. “Not when he’s jerked over on his back ’fore he knows what fetched him. We’ve all done it, Boney,” said Rick. “Nip an’ Tuck they tried it, spite o’ what the Deacon told ’em; an’ the Deacon he tried it, spite o’ what me an’ Rod told him; an’ me an’ Rod tried it, spite o’ what Grandee told us; an’ I guess Grandee he tried it, spite o’ what his dam told him. It’s the same old circus from generation to generation. ’Colt can’t see why he’s called on to back. Same old rearin’ on end—straight up. Same old feelin’ that you’ve bested ’em this time. Same old little yank at your mouth when you’re up good an’ tall. Same old Pegasus-act, wonderin’ where you’ll ’light. Same old wop when you hit the dirt with your head where your tail should be, and your in’ards shook up like a bran-mash. Same old voice in your ear: ‘Waal, ye little fool, an’ what did you reckon to make by that?’ We’re through with risin’ in our might on this farm. We go to pole er single, accordin’ ez we’re hitched.” “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.