myself examining the beast and saying: "He's crocked himself up, sir—he's gone tender at the heel." I knew perfectly, it must be understood, that this was silly, and yet I further added, "I fancy he's picked up a stone." I mean to say, it was the most utter rot, pretending seriously that way.
"You come away," said Cousin Egbert. "Next thing you'll be thinking you can ride him yourself." I did in truth experience an earnest craving for more of the revolutions and said as much, adding that I rode at twelve stone.
"Let him break his neck if he wants to," urged the Tuttle person.
"It wouldn't be right," replied Cousin Egbert, "not in his condition. Let's see if we can't find something gentle for him. Not the roan—I found she ain't bridle-wise. How about that pheasant?"
"It's an ostrich, sir," I corrected him, as indeed it most distinctly was, though at my words they both indulged in loud laughter, affecting to consider that I had misnamed the creature.
"Ostrich!" they shouted. "Poor old Bill—he thinks it's an ostrich!"
"Quite so, sir," I said, pleasantly but firmly, determining not to be hoaxed again.
"Don't drivel that way," said the Tuttle person.
"Leave it to the driver, Jeff—maybe he'll believe him," said Cousin Egbert almost sadly, whereupon the other addressed the cabby:
"Hey, Frank," he began, and continued with some French words, among which I caught "vooley-vous, ally
