Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1904-12-22
OLD
RACKABONES'
LAST KICK
BY ROBERT MERRILL. JR.

IT WAS q very queer thing to have
happen. a most uncanny circum-
stance, at best. Perhaps only physiolo-
gist could have retained his eQuanim-
ity.
But II Hoke Samson had been a better
boy, If he had been anything, in fact,
except the ignorant, rough fellow he was
he would not have been so badly fright
ened.
Hoke drove q green-truck wagon into
Bristol village every summer morning.
The fresh young beets, peas, cucumbers,
potatoes and green corn which he ped
died were all right; and for that reason
the village housekeepers were glad to
see him appear. Yet it made every
body's heart ache to see the way he
used his old horse.
Whenever he stopped at a house, or
rather when he started on to another.
Hoke would yell. savagely: "Huddup,
Old Rackabones!" and beat the horse
with his white oak whip-stock.
Il was plain that the animal could
but Just drag along with his load. His
bones stood up high in his rusty, rum
pied gray hide, and his looks were those
Of hopeless detection. Evidently he was
half-starved, and the only reward for
his hard days labor was: "Huddup,
Old Rackabones!" and crack from the
whip-stock.
The village people talked about it,
and the Cruelty-to-Animals officer was
notified. But the selectmen Of Bristol
argued that Hoke had a mother and
three sisters, and that II they took the
old horse away from him the town
would have to help them. They threat
ened him, however, and babe him feed
the horse better.
Others, mostly women, demonstrated
with Hoke time and again, till he grew
insolent with them. This is my boss
see? I shall drive him as I've mind
to-see? Lots O. folks git rich mindin'
their own business-see?"
Compassion had been left out of Hoke.
He was q little more cautious about
beating the horse when he saw that
people were watching him, but it was
said by some that he more than made up
for this when he thought he was out
of sight and hearing on the road, beyond
the village.
What all who knew Hoke and his
horse had long expected, happened one
day last autumn. Old Rackabones died.
On one of his trips to the village he fell
in the shafts Of the wagon, about a mile
and half from his miserable home, and
that time even the oak whip-butt failed
to make him get up. The only wonder
was that he had not died long before!
Hoke was mad clean through
that was what he said to neighbor
afterward-that Old Rackabones shoulc
up and die" in that mean fashion, just
as he was most needed to draw the win
ter wood. Besides, he broke one Of the
wagon shafts in falling. That was an
other mean trick! If he must fall. he
might, at least, have fallen forward, and
hot sidewise on that shaft! =
Hoke unbuckled the harness, got the
horse clear of the wagon, and then,
pulling first by the tail, then by the ears,
he hauled the body out of the road and
through a set of bars into a pasture,
hhere he left It to fate and the crows
The way home was over descending
ground, and Hoke was able to haul the
wagon himself.
His mother was even more angry than
he had been. She berated Old Racka-
bones and the world at large all the time
they were at supper. Then an idea &C.
Cured to her.
1--WE must save his hide and Shoes"
said she. "His hides worth dollar and
. quarter, anyhow, and his four shoes
ten cents apiece. You 60 skin that boss,
Hoke, and do It while he's warm, and
call at Robbins and borrow his pinchers
to pull off them hoss-shees with"
She sharpened the butcher-knife with
q milestone and lighted the lantern
But Hoke did not like the idea Of going
back there in the evening.
II don't b'lieve can do It," said he.
What! Pay a dollar to have that
boss skinned" cried Mrs. Samson.
"That never'll do! You 60 skin that
THE CENTURY,s GAIL