They have gone home to bed!" "Serves them right," said another; "they'd better not ask us down among their girls again!" They groped their way to the stable and went in.

There were some animals standing at the manger, but evidently not their horses.

What could they be?
Had the rogues been trying to cheat them, by putting these strange nondescripts into their place?
They led them forth into the gray of the morning, and then--such a trio as met their gaze! There were the original bodies, it is true, but where were their manes and tails?
A scrubby, pickety ridge along the neck, and a bare stump projecting behind, were all that remained of the flowing honors with which they had come gallivanting down to "bear away the bell" at Hickory Creek, or, in the emphatic language of the country, "to take the rag off the bush." Gholson sat down on a log and cried outright.

Medard took the matter more philosophically--the horse was none of his--it was Lieutenant Foster's.
Robert characteristically looked around to see whom he could knock down on the occasion; but there was no one visible on whom to wreak their vengeance.
The bumpkins had stolen away, and, in some safe, quiet nook, were snugly enjoying their triumph, and doubtless the deceitful fair ones were by this time at their sides, sharing their mirth and exultation.
The unlucky gallants mounted their steeds, and set their faces homeward.
Never was there a more crestfallen and sorry-looking cavalcade.

The poor horses seemed to realize that they had met the same treatment as the messengers of King David at the hands of the evil-disposed Hanun.