"Hey, Rip! How's
horse flesh?"
But Fred, flushing angrily, hurried along. "What's up?" asked
young Prescott as the group of boys came along.
"Haven't you heard about Fred's pony?" asked one of the crowd.
"I know he bought a pony," Dick answered.
"Yes; but Squire Ripley had a veterinary go down to the Ripley
stable this afternoon, and look the pony over," volunteered the
ready informant. "Vet said that the pony would be worth a dollar
or two for his hide, but wouldn't be worth anything alive. So
Squire Ripley ordered the pony shot, and that cart is taking the
poor beast away."
"Is your canoe going to be a winner?" asked another boy.
"We expect so," Dick nodded.
"Great joke on Rip, isn't it?" grinned another.
"I can't say that his misfortune makes me especially happy," Prescott
answered gravely.
"Well, I'm glad he was 'stung' on his pony," continued the other
boy. "Rip is no good!"
"There is an old saying to the effect that, if we got our just
deserts we'd all of us be more or less unhappy," smiled Dick.
"Rip won't be so chesty with us smaller boys," predicted another
grammar school boy. "If he tries it on, all we've got to do is
to ask him, 'How's horse flesh, Rip?'"
In spite of himself Dick could not help laughing at the thought
of the mortification of the lawyer's son when he should be teased
on so tender a point. Then Dick asked:
"Mart, is your uncle at his stand now?"
"I reckon he is," nodded Heckler.
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