Identifier: stnicholasserial4821dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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g horsea natural resting-place. So he had reduced hisalmost invisible rate of progress to a positivestandstill. Then he arched his neck, and whilethe stream cooled his fetlocks, began to drink. Inbrushing through the shrubbery on the stream-border, we had awakened several companies ofthe four mischievous tribes, and now they wereflying, singing, biting, and sucking about us, test-ing our tempers and our blood. E. L. and I were driven up the bank, laughing(as secretly as possible) to see M r. Gordon joustingat the unfairies that flibbertigibbeted over hisfeatures or sang in his ears or persecuted his legsor covered his beast, while he could do nothing tourge that stubborn animal to go on. For, unfortu-nately, the posture in which Taxi now found him-self with his feet braced wide, his head danglingcomfortably down, the water flowing in slow swal-lows up his throat, was a posture of exceptionalease. And even after he had drunk his fill, about 882 THE TRUE STORY OF THE HAUNTED SWAMP (Aug.
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OUR GUEST BEGAN A RAPID BUFFETING OF HIMSELF, CRYING OUT: RESCUE ME! I M BEING SWALLOWED! two tubfuls, he was loth to resume motion.Furthermore, as each thwack of Mr. Gordonsswitch merely dislodged more mosquitos fromhis flanks, the intelligent beast regarded the beat-ing in the light of a kindness rather than as aninvitation to proceed. Suddenly our guest leftoff thumping Taxi and began a rapid buffeting ofhimself, crying out: Rescue me! I m beingswallowed! Pull up his head, I shouted. Slide off and come up here, urged E. L. I cant! Several rapid circulations of hisarms swept new clouds of insects into activity. Make a smudge, Lad, quick! I shouted.I 11 pull out the horse. I rushed down the slope again and laid coercivehands upon Taxis bridle. But his feet wereplanted like the supports of the Eiffel Tower. Get off and run up hill, I advised Gordon.He looked at the water, then at his neat shoes,and shook his head. Cant you built a fire under him? he asked,rather fruitlessly, consideri

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