ther.

"Holy saints!" he gasped. "The divvil is in the beast! It spakes."

"Don't get excited," smiled Merry. "I told you Dick was an educated
horse. I think I've proved my statement. Now, Dick, my boy, you'll
follow Bart and Pansy round to the stable and permit Toots to look after
you. I'll see you at the usual hour this afternoon and give you your
lessons in algebra and Latin. Be a good boy, Dick. Trot along. Ta! ta!"

"Ta! ta!" answered the horse, as it turned away. "Look out for the big
bear. He thinks he's a sharper, but he's only a common lobster."

With a whisk of his tail and a flirt of his heels, Dick followed Pansy
and disappeared round the corner toward the stable.

Basil Bearover pulled himself together and took a deep breath.

"Say," he huskily remarked, "have you a little something bracing round
this place? I'd like a small nip of whisky after that."

"I'm sorry," answered Frank, "but I don't keep it in the house. I
haven't a drop of liquor of any kind round the place."

"Be Heaven!" exclaimed the Irishman. "I nade a drink meself."

Bearover placed a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"Tell me, McCann," he said, "did you hear that horse speak? I must have
dreamed it. I must be getting in a bad way."

"It was no dream, Mr. Bearover," was the answer. "I heard it meself. The
baste talked as plain as any man could spake."

"Jerusalem!" exploded the stout stranger, as if struck by an idea. "That
animal ought to make a fortune for its owner. What'll you take for that
horse, Mr. Merriwell?"

"You can't buy him, sir," was the quiet answer. "Do you think I'd be
heartless enough to sell Dick after spending all this time in educating
him and getting him trained to such a high point of perfection? Why, it
would break the poor creature's heart."

"I'll give you a thousand dollars for him," offered the man, thrusting a
hand into his breast pocket and producing a pocketbook.

"Put up your money," said Frank. "I tell you that you can't buy him.
Why, if I should sell that horse to you, just as likely as not he'd be
so disgusted and angry that he'd never speak again. You know it's no
small matter for a horse to talk. It isn't natural for them. It could
only be produced by a mighty effort, and the most natural thing in the
world would be for the creature to relapse into dumbness if transferred
to another owner."

Bearover looked disappointed as he slipped the pocketbook back into its
resting place. Glancing