"Let me go with him, pa," begged little Clarence, who heard his father
giving Eph his instructions.
"Oh, no," replied Mr. Garie; "the cart will be full of goods, there will be
no room for you."
"But, pa, I can ride my pony; and, besides, you might let me go, for I
shan't have many more chances to ride him--do let me go."
"Oh, yes, massa, let him go. Why dat ar chile can take care of his pony all
by hissef. You should just seed dem two de oder day. You see de pony felt
kinder big dat day, an' tuck a heap o' airs on hissef, an' tried to trow
him--twarn't no go--Massa Clary conquered him 'pletely. Mighty smart boy,
dat," continued Eph, looking at little Clarence, admiringly, "mighty smart.
I let him shoot off my pistol toder day, and he pat de ball smack through
de bull's eye--dat boy is gwine to be a perfect Ramrod."
"Oh, pa," laughingly interrupted little Clarence; "I've been telling him of
what you read to me about Nimrod being a great hunter."
"That's quite a mistake, Eph," said Mr. Garie, joining in the laugh.
"Well, I knowed it was suffin," said Eph, scratching his head; "suffin with
a rod to it; I was all right on that pint--but you'r gwine to let him go,
ain't yer, massa?"
"I suppose, I must," replied Mr. Garie; "but mind now that no accident
occurs to young Ramrod.
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