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“You didn’t sell that old gray crowbait of yours, did you, Carl?”

Andy curiously regarded the poor crowbait of a horse soon driven into view attached to a ramshackly wagon.

Evie started and soon returned astride a fine specimen in the shape of a "sorrel crowbait", mane and tail closely shaven and points very prominent; but he could carry the harness, so he would do.

"Well, how in the name of all that is good, great, and wise did you get that crowbait wished on you?"

"Why, years ago he had the same old crowbait of a horse, and the boys mocked him when he'd keep using the whip, and telling the beast to get along."