You've seen them thrashin' machines they're usin' round here. The sort,
you know, where the horses keep steppin' up a board thing 's if they was
climbin' up-hill or goin' up a pair o' stairs, only they don't never get
along a mite; they keep right in the same place all the time, steppin'
and steppin', but never gittin' on.
Well, I knew a horse once, that worked on one o' them things. His name
was Jack, and he was a nice horse. First time they put him on to thrash,
he didn't know what the machine was, and he walked along and up the
boards quick and lively, and he didn't see why he didn't get on faster.
There was a horse side of him named Billy, a kind o' frettin', cross
feller, and he see through it right off.
"Don't you go along," he says to Jack; "'t ain't no use; you won't never
get on, they're foolin' us, and I won't give in to 'em." So Billy he
hung back and shook his head, and tried to get away, and to kick, and
the man whipped him, and hollered at him. But Jack, he went on quiet and
quick and pleasant, steppin' away, and he says softly to Billy, "Come
along," he says; "it's all right, we'll be there bimeby. Don't you see
how I'm gittin' on a'ready?" And that was the ways things went every
day.
Jack never gin up; he climbed and climbed, and walked and walked, jest's
if he see the place he was goin' to, and 's if it got nearer and nearer.
And every night, when they took him off, he was as pleased with his
day's journey 's if he'd gone twenty mile. "I've done first-rate
to-day," he says to cross, kickin' Billy. "The roads was good, and I
never picked up a stone nor dropped a shoe, and I got on a long piece.
I'll be there pretty soon," says he. "Why," says Billy, "what a foolish
fellow you be! You've been in the same place all day, and ain't got on
one mite. What do you mean by _there_? Where is it you think you're
goin', anyway?"
"Well, I don't 'zackly know," says Jack, "but I'm gittin' there real
spry. I 'most see it one time to-day." He didn't mind Billy's laughin'
at him, and tryin' to keep him from bein' sat'sfied. He jest went on
tryin' and tryin' to get there, and hopin' and believin' he would after
a spell. He was always peart and comfortable, took his work real easy,
relished his victuals and drink, and slept first rate nights. But Billy
he fretted and scolded and kicked and bit, and that made him hot and
tired, and got him whipped, and hollered at, and pulled, and yanked. You
see, he hadn't got anything in his mind to chirk him up, for he didn't
believe anything good was comin', as Jack did; he 'most knowed it
wasn't, but Jack 'most knowed it was. And Jack took notice of things
that Billy never see at all. He see the trees a-growin', and heered the
birds a-singin', and Injun Brook a-gugglin' along over the stones, and
he watched the butterflies a-flyin', and sometimes a big yeller 'n black
one would light right on his back. Jack took notice of 'em all, and he'd
say, "I'm gettin' along now, certin sure, for there's birds and posies
and flyin' things here I never see back along. I guess I'm most there."
"'There, there!'" Billy'd say. "Where is it, anyway? I ain't never seen
any o' them posies and creaturs you talk about, and I'm right side of
you on these old boards the whole time."
And all the children round there liked Jack. They'd watch the two horses
workin', and they see Billy all cross and skittish, holdin' back and
shakin' his head and tryin' to kick, never takin' no notice o' them nor
anything. And, again, they see Jack steppin' along peart and spry,
pleasant and willin', turnin' his head when they come up to him, and
lookin' friendly at 'em out of his kind brown eyes, and they'd say, the
boys and girls would, "Good Jack! nice old Jack!" and they'd pat him,
and give him an apple, or a carrot, or suthin' good. But they didn't
give Billy any. They didn't like his ways, and they was 'most afraid
he'd bite their fingers. And Jack would say, come evenin', "It's gittin'
nicer and nicer we get further on the road,--ain't it? Folks is
pleasanter speakin', and the victuals 'pears better flavored, and
things is comfortabler every way, seems 's if, and I jedge by that we're
'most there." But Billy'd say, a-grumblin' away, "It's worse'n
worse,--young ones a-botherin' my life out o' me, and the birds
a-jabberin' and the posies a-smellin' till my head aches. Oh, deary me!
I'm 'most dead." So 't went on and kep' on. Jack had every mite as hard
work as Billy, but he didn't mind it, he was so full o' what was comin'
and how good 't would be to get there. And 'cause he was pleasant and
willin' and worked so good, and 'cause he took notice o' all the nice
things round him, and see new ones every day, he was treated real kind,
and never got tired and used up and low in his mind like Billy. Even the
flies didn't pester him's they done Billy, for he on'y said, when he
felt 'em bitin' and crawlin', "Dog-days is come," says he, "for here's
the flies worse and worse. So the summer's most over, and I'll get there
in a jiffy now."
"What am I stoppin' for," do you say, 'Miry? 'Cause that's all. You
needn't make sech a fuss, child'en. It's done, this story is, I tell ye.
Leastways I don't know any more on it. I told you all about them two
horses, and which had a good time and which didn't, and what 'twas made
the differ'nce 'twixt 'em. But you want to know whether Jack got there.
Well, I don't know no more 'n the horses did what _there_ was, but in my
own mind I b'leeve he got it. Mebbe 't was jest dyin' peaceful and quiet,
and restin' after all that steppin' and climbin'. He'd a-liked that,
partic'lar when he knowed the folks was sorry to have him go, and would
allus rec'lect him. Mebbe 't was jest livin' on and on, int'rested and
enjoyin', and liked by folks, and then bein' took away from the hard
work and put out to pastur' for the rest o' his days. Mebbe 'twas--Oh! I
d'know. Might 'a' been lots o' things, but I feel pretty certin sure he
got it, and he was glad he hadn't gi'n up b'leevin' 't would come. For
you 'member, all the time when Billy 'most knowed it wasn't, Jack 'most
knowed 'twas.