Page 31 - The Adventures of Puss in Boots, Jr.

And they always pat my nose and say:

"'How is old Naggetty Nogg to-day?' Sometimes I get a lump of sugar, too."

"You make me wish that I could drive a milk-wagon," said Puss, Jr., with a sigh. "I'd like to be a milkman if I
had a Naggetty Nogg to drive."

WHO IS A MAN'S MOST FAITHFUL FRIEND?

"What is your master's name?" asked Puss, Jr., as the old white milk-horse paused in his story.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! My master's name is Roundey K. Rogg.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! He's a good man; he drinks no grog.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! Never does he old Naggetty flog."

"That's a blessing," said Puss, Jr. "I've seen so many poor horses whipped. It's a shame that a man can hurt a
horse."

"Yes, a horse is a man's most faithful friend," replied old Naggetty. "He works for him all the time."

"Don't you get tired?" asked Puss.

"No-o-o," replied the old horse, "not very tired. You see, when we start out we have the cans full. So we go
very slowly so as not to churn the milk or spill it. If we went too fast the tops of the cans might fly off. Then
on our way home, when all the milk has been delivered and all the hungry little children have had all they can
drink, we come along at a good clip. The cans bump and make a most cheerful noise. And every step is nearer
home, where my supper of oats is waiting for me, and my good master's supper is waiting for him."

"I'd like to climb up into your wagon and go home with you," said Puss. "Do you suppose your master would
object?"

"You can ask him," replied the old horse. "But you mustn't climb up until you do."

"Certainly not," replied Puss, indignantly. "I wouldn't take such a liberty. Tell me more about him." The old
horse whisked his tail and commenced:

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! I'll bear him safe through all this fog.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! How the darkness this way doth clog."

The old horse paused. "I was thinking of a dark night some time ago. The moon was hidden behind the clouds
and not a star was to be seen. We had gone a long ways out of our usual track, for my master had heard of a
poor woman who had a sick baby, and he said he must take her some fresh milk. When we started back for
home it was already pretty dark, but I knew the road. My master left it all to me. He just let the reins hang
down over the dashboard and gave me my head. So I kept along, taking good care not to stumble. The tin cans
bumped and banged together and the wheels creaked over the rough places. Master began to sing his favorite
song:

"Place the little candle-light In the window clear and bright. Tho' the night be dim and dark I shall see its tiny
spark."