me ten days earlier; wherefore he at once drove to the shop of
the junk-dealer who had made the offer and announced his acquiescence in
the sacrifice.

"No, suh!" the junk-dealer said, with emphasis, "I awready done got me
a good mule fer my deliv'ry hoss, 'n'at ole Whitey hoss ain' wuff no fo'
dollah nohow! I 'uz a fool when I talk 'bout th'owin' money roun' that
a-way. _I_ know what YOU up to, Abalene. Man come by here li'l bit
ago tole me all 'bout white man try to 'rest you, ovah on the avvynoo.
Yessuh; he say white man goin' to git you yit an' th'ow you in jail
'count o' Whitey. White man tryin' to fine out who you IS. He say,
nemmine, he'll know Whitey ag'in, even if he don' know you! He say he
ketch you by the hoss; so you come roun' tryin' fix me up with Whitey
so white man grab me, th'ow ME in 'at jail. G'on 'way f'um hyuh, you
Abalene! You cain' sell an' you cain' give Whitey to no cullud man 'n
'is town. You go an' drowned 'at ole hoss, 'cause you sutny goin' to
jail if you git ketched drivin' him."

The substance of this advice seemed good to Abalene, especially as the
seventeen dollars and sixty cents in his pocket lent sweet colours to
life out of jail at this time. At dusk he led Whitey to a broad common
at the edge of town, and spoke to him finally.

"G'on 'bout you biz'nis," said Abalene; "you ain' MY hoss. Don' look
roun'at me, 'cause _I_ ain't got no 'quaintance wif you. I'm a man o'
money, an' I got my own frien's; I'm a-lookin' fer bigger cities, hoss.
You got you biz'nis an' I got mine. Mista' Hoss, good-night!"

Whitey found a little frosted grass upon the common and remained there
all night. In the morning he sought the shed where Abalene had kept him;
but that was across the large and busy town, and Whitey was hopelessly
lost. He had but one eye, a feeble one, and his legs were not to be
depended upon; but he managed to cover a great deal of ground, to
have many painful little adventures, and to get monstrously hungry and
thirsty before he happened to look in upon Penrod and Sam.

When the two boys chased him up the alley they had no intention to cause
pain; they had no intention at all. They were no more cruel than Duke,
Penrod's little old dog, who followed his own instincts, and, making his
appearance hastily through a hole in the back fence, joined the pursuit
with sound and fury. A boy will nearly always run after anything that
is running, and his first impulse is to throw a stone at it