It was the firm belief of all
on board that Old Browny could sleep anywhere on a fairly level
stretch of road without stopping.
But Old Blacky was another sort of beast. He didn't seem to
require any sleep at all. What Old Blacky wanted was food. He
loved to sit up all night and eat, and keep us awake. He seldom
even lay down at night, but would moon about the camp and blunder
against things, fall over the wagon-tongue, and otherwise
misbehave. Sometimes when we camped where the grass was not just
to his liking he would put his head into the wagon and help
himself to a mouthful of bedquilt or a bite of pillow. He was
little but an appetite mounted on four legs, and next to food he
loved a fight. Besides the name of Old Blacky, we also knew him
as the Blacksmith's Pet; but this will have to be explained later
on.
On this first morning, just as it was becoming light in the
east, Old Blacky began to make his toilet by rubbing his shoulder
against one corner of the wagon. As he was large and heavy, and
rubbed as hard as he could, he soon had the wagon tossing about
like a boat; and as the easiest way out of it, we decided to get
up.
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