Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 178: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE “SANTY CLAUS* TO MY WILL. 171 Every day about eleven o'clock in the morning I was allowed to pay him a visit and tefl him how Santy was petting on. I don’t know how I ever es- caped bemg iound out, but this is a sample of our conversation, which took place every morning. I would enter Harry’s room, and the first word he would say would be: “Oh, Carter, did you give Santy that apple 1 gave you yesterday? ” “ Indeed J did, Harry,” I would reply, “ and de you know when he put his velvet white nose into my hand, he seemed to be thanking me for bringing him a remembrance of you.” Then I’d sit back and pat myself ior telling such a beautiful tale. But Harry would get up on his elbow and his face would cloud. “White nose, Carter? Why, Santy hasn’t a white nose.” “Certainly aot,” I would reply hurriedly, “ of course not—I mean his lovely—black snout—er—what? Yes, how foolish of me not to notice it. His fine, soft, red nose would rub along my sleeve, and then he'd whinny— what? Santy never whinnied? Well, he does now. It’s a trick the stable boys have taught him.” And so ('d go on, with the goose flesh just standing out all over me, for fear Harry would discover the ialseness of everything we were telling him about that horse of his. What [ didn’t know about that blessed Santy would fill a public library; still I had to keep on bluffing to my chum. When I wasn’t telling him some fairy tale, I would be chasing every government horse that had gone under the hammer for the last month. Not one of them corresponded with the de- scription of the animal given to me daily by the convalescent Harrison Davis. He was sitting up now, and the doctor told me one night that in a week my chum could go out for a drive, “ Just to look at Santy, you know,” and that fend of a doctor nudged me in the ribs and laughed uproariously. I pleaded with him to keep the boy in uatil I had found the horse, and he said that he’d try to, but Harrison knew that he was getting well, and it woukl be almost as bad to make him fret himself ill again by not going out into the air, as it would be for him to go out and not find the horse. Three more days passed, and still no horse. I had taken to advertising for a “ bay horse with a nicked off ear lately tsed by the government in volun- teer infantry service,” and I gave the name of Harry’s regiment. I received answers from the owners of the original horse that Noah brought out of the Ark, and every generation of equine descent since. But none of them was the beast I was looking for. ‘Two days more,” said the doctor, “ and Harry will be able to take that drive and look at Santy.”’ | My hair began to grow white. I could feel the color going. My nerves gave out completely, and only the thought of my dear old mother kept me from drink or suicide. Then momentary relief came in the person of that man, Tom Jackson. On the day before Harrison Davis would discover that-we had no such horse as Santy waiting for him, I went in despair to Alice Stafford. At her house { met Jackson. CORNICE DOG @ ZX oY) ceo