As George put it, “We ain’t much shakes in the South.” While this may be true, I appreciated the warmer weather. It was nice, at long last, to be able to trot along without struggling through snow or sloshing through mud.
All summer we worked our way along the dusty roads of Florida, Georgia, and South and North Carolina while working our way back north. The entire area seemed rather…how should I put this? Slow? That’s it…slow. There never seemed to be much going on. Not like in the big cities in the North, that is. People just sat around looking like, as George put it, they were waiting for something to happen.
In many towns, we were the only thing happening, and we attracted large crowds of people, especially children. They all wanted to hear about our adventures, and many sat on my back to get their pictures taken. I was proud at how patient I was as children, up to six at a time, were placed on my back. I was even easy-going when they crawled under my belly or pulled my tail. For such a young horse, I’m quite remarkable.
While the people in the towns we passed through wanted to talk, they didn’t want to spend, and poor George and the men had a terrible time selling their cards or magazine subscriptions. I watched as person after person refused to buy anything.
“So much for Southern hospitality,” I heard Slim grumble one day as he stuffed his unsold cards back in his saddle bag.
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