The removal of the blanket, disclosed a sore on Bullet’s back-bone, that seemed to have defied all medical skill. It measured six full inches in length, and four in breadth; and had as many features as Bullet had motions. My heart sickened at the sight; and I felt that the brute who had been riding him in that situation, deserved the halter. The prevailing feeling, however, was that of mirth. The laugh became loud and general, at the old man’s expense; and rustic witticisms were liberally bestowed upon him and his late purchase. These, Blossom continued to provoke by various remarks. He asked the old man, “if he thought Bullet would let five dollars lie on his back.” He declared most seriously, that he had owned that horse three months, and had never discovered before that he had a sore back, “or he never should have thought of trading him,” &c. &c. The old man bore it all with the most philosophic composure. He evinced no astonishment at his late discovery, and made no replies. But his son, Neddy, had not disciplined his feelings quite so well. His eyes opened wider and wider, from the first to the last pull of the blanket; and when the whole sore burst upon his view, astonishment and fright seemed to contend for the mastery of his countenance. As the blanket disappeared he stuck his hands in his breeches pockets, heaved a deep sigh, and lapsed into a profound reverie; from which he was only roused by the cuts at his father. He bore them as long as he could; and when he could contain himself no longer, he began with a certain wildness of expression, which gave a peculiar interest to what he uttered: “His buck’s mighty bad off, but ded drot my soal if he’s put it to daddy as bad as he thinks he has, for old Kit’s both blind and _deef_, I’ll be ded drot if he eint.” “The devil he is,” said Blossom. “Yes, ded drot my soal if he _eint_. You walk him and see if he _eint_. His eyes don’t look like it; but he _jist as live go agin_ the horse with you, or in a ditch, as anyhow. Now you go try him.” The laugh was now turned on Blossom; and many rushed to test the fidelity of the little boy’s report. A few experiments established its truth, beyond controversy. “Neddy,” said the old man, “you oughtn’t to try and make people discontented with their things. Stranger, don’t mind what the little boy says. If you can only get Kit rid of them little failings, you’ll find him all sorts of a horse. You are a _leetle_ the best man, at a horse swap, that ever I got hold of; but don’t fool away Kit. Come, Neddy, my son, let’s be moving; the stranger seems to be getting snappish.” XVIII. THREE CHANCES FOR A WIFE.