'Fust-class butter,' said old
Bill. 'What do you want in trade?' said the man. 'Suit yerself,' said
Bill, 'chuck it down side of the road there.' This was soon done, and
the peddler druv up front of old Jinnie and went to git her, so as to
tie her behind his waggin. She didn't stop to be led. Down went her head
agin and she made for the peddler. He got the other side of his team
jist as old Jinnie druv her horns 'tween the spokes of the forrard
wheel. Down come the pots, and pans, and kittles, in ev'ry direction. A
clotheshorse fell on the horse's back and off he started on a dead run,
and that wuz the end of poor Jinnie. Before she could pull back her
horns, round went the wheel and broke her neck. The peddler pulled up
his horse and went back to see old Bill, who was climbin' down from the
apple tree. 'What am I goin' to do about this?' said the peddler. 'I wuz
countin' on drivin' her over to the next town and sellin' her or tradin'
her off, but I hain't got no use for fresh beef.' 'Wall,' said old Bill,
'considering circumstances we'll call the trade off. You kin keep your
stuff and I'll keep my beef.
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