“But look a-here. All of you ain’t so blame unfriendly to a stranger. S’pose we count noses.” “What in Vermont fer?” said Rod, putting up his eyebrows. The idea of settling a question by counting noses is the very last thing that ever enters the head of a well-broken horse. “To see how many’s on my side. Here’s Miss Tuck, anyway; an’ Colonel Tweezy yonder’s neutral; an’ Judge Marcus, an’ I guess the Reverend [the yellow horse meant the Deacon] might see that I had my rights. He’s the likeliest-lookin’ Trotter I’ve ever set eyes on. Pshaw. Boys. You ain’t goin’ to pound _me_, be you? Why, we’ve gone round in pasture, all colts together, this month o’ Sundays, hain’t we, as friendly as could be. There ain’t a horse alive I don’t care who he is—has a higher opinion o’ you, Mr. Rod, than I have. Let’s do it fair an’ true an’ above the exe. Let’s count noses same’s they do in Kansas.” Here he dropped his voice a little and turned to Marcus: “Say, Judge, there’s some green food I know, back o’ the brook, no one hain’t touched yet. After this little _fraças_ is fixed up, you an’ me’ll make up a party an’ ’tend to it.” Marcus did not answer for a long time, then he said: “There’s a pup up to the haouse ’bout eight weeks old. He’ll yap till he gits a lickin’, an’ when he sees it comin’ he lies on his back, an’ yowls. But he don’t go through no cir_kit_uous nose-countin’ first. I’ve seen a noo light sence Rod spoke. You’ll better stand up to what’s served. I’m goin’ to philosophise all over your carcass.” “_I_’m goin’ to do yer up in brown paper,” said Muldoon. “I can fit you on apologies.” “Hold on. Ef we all biffed you now, these same men you’ve been so dead anxious to kill ’u’d call us off. Guess we’ll wait till they go back to the haouse, an’ you’ll have time to think cool an’ quiet,” said Rod. “Have you no respec’ whatever fer the dignity o’ our common horsehood?” the yellow horse squealed.