I remarked that his
ears looked dead; no sound or sight of any kind disturbed the peace
of his mind. He evidently knew this world well and despised it;
nothing in it could excite his feelings any more.
Halfway up the Water Road I met Bill Mills, a carrier. He stopped
his team and looked at mine.
"Have you bought that horse, Mister?" he said.
"Not yet; I am only trying him," I replied. "Do you know him?"
"Know him? I should think I did. That's old Punch. I broke him
into harness when he was three off. He nearly killed me; ran away
with me and my dog-cart among the scrub at the racecourse swamp, and
smashed it against a honeysuckle."
"Is that long ago?" I enquired.
"Long ago? Let me see. That horse is twenty year old if he's a day.
He'll not run away with you now; no fear; he's quite safe. Good-day,
Mister. Come on, Star;" and Bill touched his leader with his whip.
When I arrived at the court-house, I made a search in the cause list
book, and found that Johnny-come-lately had been sent to gaol just
sixteen years before for stealing Old Punch, so I restored that
venerable trotter to its owner.
I had soon more horses offered to me for trial, every old screw
within twenty miles being brought to me for inspection. The next
animal I harnessed belonged to Andrew Jackson, and was brought by
Andrew Jackson, junior, who said his father could let me have it for
a month on trial.
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