As Trove approached
him, he spat over a front wheel, and sat looking down sadly.
"Tunk, what's the matter ?"
"Kicked," said he, with growing sadness.
"A horse?" Trove inquired, with sympathy.
Tunk thought a moment.
"Couldn't say what 'twas," he answered presently.
"I fear," said Trove, smiling, "that you came by the Brier Road."
Suddenly there was a quick stir of boughs and a flash of tawny fur
above them. Then the young painter landed full on the back of
Tunkhannock Hosely. There was a wild yell; the horse leaped and
ran, breaking through a fence and wrecking the wagon; the painter
spat, and made for the woods, and was seen no more of men. Tunk
had picked up an axe, and climbed a ladder that stood leaning to
the roof. Trove and Allen caught the frightened horse.
"Now," said the former, "let's try and capture Tunk."
"He's taken to the roof," said Allen.
"Where's that air painter?" Tunk shouted, as they came near.
"Gone to the woods."
"Heavens!" said Tunk, gloomily. "I'm all tore up; there ain't
nothin' left o' me--boots full o' blood. I tell ye this country's
a leetle too wild fer me."
He came down the ladder slowly, and sat on the step and drew off
his boots.
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