"
"No; not yet," Penrod said. "It's too soon after his meal. You
ought to know that yourself. What we got to do is to make up a
bed for him--if he wants to lay down or anything."
"Make up a what for him?" Sam echoed, dumfounded. "What you
talkin' about? How can--"
"Sawdust," Penrod said. "That's the way the horse we used to have
used to have it. We'll make this horse's bed in the other stall,
and then he can go in there and lay down whenever he wants to."
"How we goin' to do it?"
"Look, Sam; there's the hole into the sawdust-box! All you got to
do is walk in there with the shovel, stick the shovel in the hole
till it gets full of sawdust, and then sprinkle it around on the
empty stall."
"All _I_ got to do!" Sam cried. "What are you goin' to do?"
"I'm goin' to be right here," Penrod answered reassuringly. "He
won't kick or anything, and it isn't goin' to take you half a
second to slip around behind him to the other stall."
"What makes you think he won't kick?"
"Well, I KNOW he won't, and, besides, you could hit him with the
shovel if he tried to.
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