FIG II. FOND Horse on Saturday morning owner can get him by (crossed
through word, unreadable) replying at stable bhind Mr. Schofield.
You will have to proof he is your horse he is whit with hind of brown
(crossed out: spec) speks and worout (crossed out: tail) tale, he is
geting good care and food, reword (crossed out: $100 $20) sevntyfive
cents to each one or we will keep him lokked up.----------------

Neither Sam nor Penrod showed any interest in what the other
had written; but both felt that something praiseworthy had been
accomplished. Penrod exhaled a sigh, as of relief, and, in a manner he
had observed his father use sometimes, he said:

"Thank goodness, THAT'S off my mind, anyway!"

"What we goin' do next, Penrod?" Sam asked deferentially, the borrowed
manner having some effect upon him.

"I don't know what YOU'RE goin' to do," Penrod returned, picking up the
old cigarbox that had contained the paper and pencils. "I'M goin' to put
mine in here, so's it'll come in handy when I haf to get at it."

"Well, I guess I'll keep mine there, too," Sam said. Thereupon he
deposited his scribbled slip beside Penrod's in the cigarbox, and the
box was solemnly returned to the secret place whence it had been taken.

"There, THAT'S 'tended to!" Sam said, and, unconsciously imitating his
friend's imitation, he gave forth audibly a breath of satisfaction and
relief.

Both boys felt that the financial side of their great affair had been
conscientiously looked to, that the question of the reward was settled,
and that everything was proceeding in a businesslike manner. Therefore,
they were able to turn their attention to another matter.

This was the question of Whitey's next meal. After their exploits of
the morning, and the consequent imperilment of Penrod, they decided
that nothing more was to be done in apples, vegetables or bread; it was
evident that Whitey must be fed from the bosom of nature.

"We couldn't pull enough o' that frostbit ole grass in the yard to feed
him," Penrod said gloomily. "We could work a week and not get enough to
make him swaller more'n about twice. All we got this morning, he blew
most of it away. He'd try to scoop it in toward his teeth with his lip,
and then he'd haf to kind of blow out his breath, and after that all the
grass that'd be left was just some wet pieces stickin' to the outsides
of his face. Well, and you know how he acted about that maple branch. We
can't trust him with branches