"Don' jes' like this kind uv a hoss," said D'ri. "Got t' keep whalin' 'im all the while, an' he 's apt t' slobber 'n rough goin'."
He looked thoughtfully at the sun a breath, and then trimmed his remark with these words; "Ain't eggzac'ly sure-footed, nuther."
"Don't require much feed, though," I suggested.
"No; ye hev t' dew all the eatin', but ye can alwus eat 'nough fer both."
It was a fine day, and a ride to remember. We had a warm sun, a clear sky, and now and then we could feel the soft feet of the south wind romping over us in the river way. Here and there a swallow came coasting to the ripples, sprinkling the holy water of delight upon us, or a crow's shadow ploughed silently across our bows. It thrilled me to go cantering beside the noisy Rapides du Plats or the wild-footed Galloup, two troops of water hurrying to the mighty battles of the sea. We mounted reeling knolls, and coasted over whirling dips, and rushed to boiling levels, and jumped foamy ridges, and went galloping in the rush and tumble of long slopes.
