“The Yanky let on like he tho’t his horse was the most vallyble, but Jim out-talked him to deth. He praised old one, ’twell I had to go behind the wagin and laugh. Bimeby ses he, ‘ain’t that a _Injun holler_?’ and with that the stranger looked white, and axed Jim how _he’d_ trade? “‘You must give me ten dollars to boot,’ ses Jim. “‘But my horse is the most vallyble,’ ses the Yanky. “‘He ain’t half-broke,’ ses Jim, ‘and I’d be most afeard to ride him—let’s see!’ “With that Jim gits on the roan, and tetched him in the flank with the heel that was on t’other side from the stranger, and the horse bein’ naterally playful, you see, went to kickin’ up and rearin’ and squealin’; Jim holdin’ on to the mane, and the Yanky hollerin’ ‘wo! wo!’ Presently Jim come to the ground, ca-whop! And with that he riz from the ground, complainin’ mightly ’bout his side, and ’lowed he wouldn’t have the horse on no terms—that ef the Injuns was to come on us of a sudden, we shouldn’t have but one horse that could be rid; and then he axed me ef I had enny opydildock in the wagin box, that he could rub his side with! he! he! Jim is a rascal, that’s a fac, but I can’t tell whar he got it from, onless it’s a judge_ment_ on his mammy for bein’ so cussed ugly! yah! yah! “Seein’ the stranger was aggravated ’bout the Injuns, I draps in then, myself, and tells him I’d give him ‘old Coon,’ even drag, for the roan; and we made the trade mighty quick, for he had the Injun ager ’twell his eyes was big as sassers! Well, we changed saddles and bridles, and while I was gearin’ up Fiddler Bill, he couldn’t—but, Squire, what _do_ you reckon it was he couldn’t do?” “Can’t guess,” we replied. “Well, bust me wide open, _ef he knowed how to put the bridle on his horse_! I’ve seen men that was ig’nant before, but he was the wust off with it I _ever_ seed. He didn’t know whether the bits went behind the years, or into the mouth—blamed ef he did! “Finally, at last, he got mounted, and jogged off—you remember what I told you ’bout the saw-mill gate—well that’s the way old Cuss rattled his buttons. He was the most _lonesome-lookin’_ critter, a-settin’ on that old horse, with his new saddle and bridle, that ever I seed! As soon as he got cleverly out o’ sight, Jim gin two or three Injun whoops, and people did say in Dudleyville, whar he stopped that night, that he got thar in mighty reasonable good time! So that’s the way, Squire, I come by Fiddler Bill . . . . . ain’t it, Bill?” whereupon Fiddler pricked up his ears, but said nothing. About this time, we arrived at a mean-looking shanty, and calling, were answered by a man who came out to us. It was Jim Blake. “Here’s the _sensis_-taker,” said Uncle Kit. “Hang the _sensis_-taker,” was the blunt reply. “Don’t say that, Jim,” returned Uncle Kit; “he’s a good little Union Squire Mr. Van Buren’s sent round to take ’count of the cloth and chickens, jist to see ef the wimmin’s sprightly.”