Initial commit of ebook 78664 filesHEADmain

1 files changed, 2185 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/78664-0.txt b/78664-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..852159a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78664-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2185 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78664 ***
+
+
+
+
+  Transcriber’s Note
+  Italic text displayed as: _italic_
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF PONY DEXTER
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS FOR GIRLS
+
+By Laura E. Richards
+
+
+_The_ MARGARET SERIES
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Three Margarets
+  Margaret Montfort
+  Peggy
+  Rita
+  Fernley House
+
+
+_The_ HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Queen Hildegarde
+  Hildegarde’s Holiday
+  Hildegarde’s Home
+  Hildegarde’s Neighbors
+  Hildegarde’s Harvest
+
+
+  DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+  Publishers
+  Estes Press, Summer St., Boston
+
+[Illustration: FOR A BRIEF SPACE WE SPED NECK TO NECK.]
+
+
+
+
+  THE ADVENTURES
+  OF PONY DEXTER
+
+  BY
+
+  HARRIET A. CHEEVER
+
+  AUTHOR OF
+  “THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF BILLY TRILL,”
+  “MADAME ANGORA,” “LORD DOLPHIN,”
+  “MOTHER BUNNY,” ETC.
+
+  Illustrated by
+
+  DIANTHA H. MARLOWE
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  BOSTON
+
+  DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+
+  PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+_Copyright, 1911_
+
+BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+
+PONY DEXTER
+
+Published June, 1911
+
+
+  _Electrotyped and Printed by
+  THE COLONIAL PRESS
+  C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                PAGE
+
+  FOR A BRIEF SPACE WE SPED NECK TO NECK              _Frontispiece_
+
+  WITH DEFT FINGERS HE UNFASTENED THE STOUT REIN                  29
+
+  HE MADE A BOLD DASH—FLEW TO THE BACK OF A HORSE, ETC.           44
+
+  OH! HOW I LONGED FOR THE HOME FARM!                             52
+
+  HE STOPPED ABRUPTLY AND LOOKED AT ME ATTENTIVELY                60
+
+  SUDDENLY CAME FACE TO FACE WITH THE MAN RONDO                   76
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF PONY DEXTER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Such a bright beautiful morning as it was when we set out for the pony
+trot! Several well-grown boys in our neighbourhood owned ponies. There
+was Marco Boo, owned by Will Barrows; Tony Swift, owned by Thomas Gray;
+Go-It, the property of Hiram Wilks, and myself:—Pony Dexter, with
+Perley Bolt for master. It was the four of us that were entered for the
+morning’s run.
+
+Now a pony has eyes with which to see, and ears with which to hear, and
+it was no fault of mine that I heard grown lads, pretty young girls,
+and even a number of men, praise what they called my “dandy appearance”
+and extra fine “points.”
+
+So, once I began to notice more particularly the various things said in
+my hearing, it did not take me long to understand that my neck was long
+and unusually well-arched for a pony, my head short, ears upright,
+while there was a perfect curve from the top of the head to the middle
+of the back. The body was rather slender in which “rich veins” showed:
+the legs, with neither splints nor side bones of objectionable size,
+were straight, with flexible muscles and delicate fetlocks, the hoofs
+strong and high-heeled.
+
+My dam, or mother, was a Welsh pony that had been brought to this
+country, and probably both speed and endurance were traceable to this
+lineage. For colour I was a light bay, with coal black mane and tail,
+both long and full-haired.
+
+I wish it could be said with truth that I loved my master. Horses large
+and small, and ponies young or well grown are naturally affectionate
+and if only kindly treated, are gentle, kind and willing.
+
+But I once heard a man say that Perley Bolt, my young master, had
+things too “soft” for his own good. I gradually found out that this
+meant Perley had too much money to do what he pleased with, was
+allowed to do pretty much as he chose, and had in consequence become a
+self-willed, high-tempered young fellow.
+
+I was reared on a large stock-farm, a place where a great many horses
+and ponies were bred, trained and sold. It is not much fun being
+trained or “broken” as they call it. In first attempting management
+they allow a certain length of rein that a pony does not understand
+the use of. Then, if he bolts, tries to run, shows temper or great
+resistance, first thing he knows, by some trick of raising a strap
+that has been attached just above the hoofs, he is tripped up, and
+there he is on his knees, head down and unable to rise.
+
+He tries to kick, no use; tries to make a plunge, impossible. Then
+he does the only thing there is to do, lies quietly down. They teach
+some startling lessons while he is in this position. Shake a newspaper
+before his ears and eyes, a thing said to often terrify a horse or pony
+if it flaunts unexpectedly before them in the street.
+
+Sometimes a trainer rings a bell or even fires off a dreadful thing
+called a pistol while we are prostrate and unable to rise. But with a
+man standing close by there is a feeling of safety. And these are good
+and useful lessons. They teach fearlessness, and that a great many
+sights and sounds that would make us break the traces or throw a rider
+and run away if we knew nothing about them, are yet perfectly harmless
+of themselves and need cause poor horsy or pony no fear.
+
+I was kindly treated and very happy during the first three years of my
+life at the cattle farm. The first simple lessons in training began
+when I was a year old. In this department I was a mere “kid pony,” and
+in a large field was driven round and round every day, merely guided by
+reins, until I had learned to turn to right or left according to the
+pressure of the bit in my mouth.
+
+After a few months, I trotted along nearly every day beside a staid,
+steady going horse much larger than myself, taller and stronger, that
+was hitched to a farm wagon. After I had learned courage and some
+stability by these means, a careful, good-natured groom began training
+me to the saddle, also to being harnessed to a light cart or wagon. But
+my chief use was to be that of a saddle horse.
+
+It took time and patience to bring me up to what was considered a
+degree of ripe training, yet during that time I was made useful in
+many ways. Then, when at the age of three years, I was sent to a great
+“Horse Fair,” it took but a few hours to have several fine offers made
+for me, and almost the first thing I knew, a tall lad named Perley Bolt
+had become my new master. And I was sent properly tagged and ticketed
+to a place called Greenpoint, where a number of wealthy families had
+beautiful summer residences.
+
+Near the “farm,” which always for me means my first home, there were
+several children who used to be allowed occasionally to mount the
+ponies once they were considered sufficiently steady and gentle to be
+guided by the young people. I liked well the touch of the smooth hands
+and the laughing, coaxing voices.
+
+They would tickle me with make-believe whips of braided twine or with
+a bunch of tied-up grasses when wanting a swift run around the field.
+It was my nature to be brisk and sportive, so, when a merry boy or a
+lively, fun-loving girl would leap astride my shining back, giving me
+a smart little slap, away I would go, fleet, sure-footed, enjoying the
+fun quite as much as my youthful rider. And if the wispy whip showed
+they wished to go still faster and romp along, romp I would until an
+indrawn rein warned that I must tone down, and take the way more slowly.
+
+I have spoken of Marco Boo, owned by Will Barrows, another boy of
+Greenpoint, and as Marco like myself was reared at the farm, I of
+course felt interested in him as an old acquaintance.
+
+Marco was a fine, spirited creature, but very nervous and apt to
+be irritable if teased or driven until overtired. Will Barrows
+unfortunately was fond of teasing everything that came his way. A cat
+or dog or even his little sister were objects he delighted to worry and
+hector; so I felt sorry for poor mettlesome Marco, fearing it would
+go hard with him, having his own disposition to contend with and Will
+Barrows for a master.
+
+But here we were settled at Greenpoint and not very far from each
+other. And I began by alluding to the pony trot about to take place one
+charming day in early June. Also the four ponies whose names were given
+together with their owners, were the ones entered and were to compete
+as said before.
+
+At the outskirts of the town was a large automobile manufactory with
+a wide circular track around the buildings where the machines were
+tried and tested. As more cars were ordered than could be completed
+in several months, there was likely to be but little outside practice
+for a few days. So the boys were given permission to run their ponies
+around the even drive as long as they liked that fair morning.
+
+At the fourth round, the pony coming first to the stake was to be
+declared the fastest one in town, and was to be given a pretty blanket.
+
+Now Perley Bolt cared nothing whatever for the blanket. All kinds
+of covers were neatly folded on shelves in the harness-room of his
+father’s stable; but he did care to have it said he owned the fastest
+pony in town. I was determined he should. Phil, the groom, combed my
+coat of shining bay, then rubbed it down with flannel and chamois until
+I shone like a polished mirror. Moreover he wet my fetlocks, sponged my
+head, and wove a red ribbon in my mane.
+
+In high fettle I started out, arching my neck and lifting high my hoofs
+in token of the pride I felt in coming victory.
+
+We were to start four abreast; I next to Marco Boo who was at one end,
+Tony Swift was on my other side, Go-It on the other end. News of the
+race had spread far and wide, and the enclosure was full of people.
+Men, boys and gay lassies were on hand to witness the test, which after
+all was to be of the simplest character. Merely four ponies, each
+trying to outrun the others.
+
+At a given signal off we started, Go-It slightly in the lead. He had a
+free, swinging gait, and by means of an occasional kick-out kept well
+ahead during the first round. The face of Hiram Wilks showed one broad
+grin, so pleased was the big boy at the brave output of his spunky
+little pony.
+
+But during the second round, Marco Boo all at once, with head stretched
+forward, tail afloat and hoofs flying, shot ahead of poor Go-It, and
+the grin that had been on Hiram Wilks’ face was transferred to that of
+Will Barrows.
+
+I felt fear in a pony way for Marco Boo, because from what among other
+things I had heard and seen at the farm, I knew that a violent spurt
+of unusual speed could not long be kept up. And sure enough, at the
+beginning of the third round, Marco suddenly “broke up,” and despite
+Will Barrows’ loud cries and waving of the stinging pony whip, both
+Tony Swift and I, Pony Dexter, flew ahead. Then it was nip and tuck for
+us two. Tony was a quarter hand taller than I, the heaviest built of us
+all, and as his name indicated, swift and enduring.
+
+Had our riders but known it, it would have been far better to have
+kept more quiet, bent to the work of guiding us, trusting to our own
+instinctive ambition to strive to run the other down. But Thomas Gray
+shouted, hooted, rose in the saddle, and acted as though the noise he
+made and the mad figure he cut was going to rush Tony Swift to sure
+victory.
+
+Perley Bolt, astride my back, was nearly as bad. He jerked the bit in
+my mouth, pulled my mane, dug his heels into my sides and roared at me
+as if to scare me into swifter action.
+
+Until now I had not put forth all my strength. But suddenly I felt
+the good blood that was in me rising and clamouring to assert itself:
+I felt also the pushing power of those watching eyes, had heard the
+huzzahs when Tony and I took the lead in the race, almost felt the
+pounding of Perley’s heart as with breathless heat he urged me on.
+
+Tony Swift’s fleet hoofs seemed scarcely to touch the hard track as he
+bounded along at my side. For a brief space we sped neck to neck. I
+scarcely saw the bars of the fence as we shot by them. The crowd grew
+quiet with interest and excitement. I caught a gasping sound in Tony’s
+breathing. The way was becoming short, Tony was going in leaps; so was
+I. Then I gathered myself for one great plunge, made it; added half a
+dozen astounding leaps, and—the race was won!
+
+The blanket was mine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+There was a great hubbub all around and about me as the race ended.
+Perley Bolt, naturally tall, looked as though he had grown still taller
+as the young people pressed forward, shook his hand, said pleasant
+words of praise, and patted my face, neck and moist sides.
+
+A very proud pony I was as my prouder master, mounting me, rode slowly
+away. Phil rubbed me down thoroughly, but would take no notice of my
+desire to get over to the trough and satisfy my eager thirst. Not until
+he had rubbed me dry and thrown a light linen cover over me would he
+let me drink.
+
+I suppose knowing creatures like men, can tell when it is safe or
+unsafe to let animals drink cold water. Certain it is I had to wait
+Phil’s time to get near the trough. Then how grateful, how delightful,
+the long, deep draughts of refreshing water! Surely man and beast must
+be thankful for this common boon and blessing.
+
+I believe Phil gave me a little more than my usual supply of timothy
+and sweet clover for dinner, then, like a sensible pony, I dozed and
+rested quietly through the long, delicious summer afternoon.
+
+Toward evening, my master, Perley, sauntered over to the stable, and
+during the talk he had with Phil, I gathered that a second pony race
+was already being planned. Will Barrows claimed that Marco Boo made an
+unfortunate sprint because of being stung by a great green fly at just
+the wrong moment. And Thomas Gray declared that the only reason Tony
+Swift failed of winning the race, was because of having had the wrong
+bit in his mouth by mistake.
+
+A day or two afterward in talking the affair over with his friends,
+Perley said with an air of importance:—
+
+“Now there’s one thing certain, whichever pony wins the race—that is,
+if I consent to enter Dexter again—there must be no making up excuses
+for those who fail. The one who comes out ahead wins fair and square.”
+
+I scarcely knew why a touch of scorn crept into the boy’s voice as he
+added,
+
+“I’m sorry Dexter can’t race for another prize, but my father doesn’t
+like the idea. He gave away the blanket Dexter won and said it was
+glory enough to know I owned the fastest little trotter in town. He
+wasn’t going to have stakes put up on anything in his stable.”
+
+“I shall be satisfied to have Marco Boo come into his own, and be
+acknowledged the fastest pony in town,” Will Barrows said provokingly.
+
+“Let’s see him do it,” laughed Thomas Gray, owner of Tony Swift.
+
+As the other boys turned away, Perley said to me,
+
+“Now, Mister Dexter, you’re to take it easy until next trotting day;
+meantime, I must teach you a little something about saving your
+strength and speed in racing, for a strong final struggle.”
+
+He needn’t have troubled himself about teaching me that. Had I not
+already proved having some sense of the advantage of hoarding breath
+and muscle for the last hard reach?
+
+The second trial came on attended with even more interest and a larger
+crowd than before. And every pony of the four came to the auto circle,
+fresh, full of spirit, and understanding what was expected of him—to
+prove himself the fleetest footed pony in the town. Reward enough it
+would be to either one to be patted, petted, and praised for having won
+the race.
+
+Tony Swift held high his glossy head and sniffed the air as if to say:
+“Now watch me win where the other day I failed.”
+
+Go-It stepped lightly and looked the game little fellow he really was.
+
+Marco Boo took no notice of the rest of us, not even of me, his special
+acquaintance. I fancied Will Barrows might have taunted poor, sensitive
+Marco for not having outdone me on those last momentous leaps when we
+raced before.
+
+We were drawn up in line ready for the starting signal to be given,
+when a soft-hearted young girl exclaimed,
+
+“Oh, I think it’s a shame to race those pretty creatures! Cruel, to
+pit them one against another, making them fly like mad, straining every
+nerve and wearing themselves out in the exertion they must make.”
+
+She was with an older sister, who replied laughingly,
+
+“Why, Bettie, they like it! It’s just as much fun for a horse or pony
+to run and race as it was for you to play ‘tag’ a few years ago. There
+is nothing cruel in running a healthy young pony round this small
+ring four times. It wouldn’t tire out four strong boys. So, enjoy it,
+Bettie, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”
+
+She spoke the truth. As long as we are not unduly forced, lashed, or
+pricked with spurs, we like to dash out, show our speed, and realizing
+there is a goal ahead, run for it with all the vim there is in us. Who
+has not seen two or three dogs rushing along, heedless of everything
+but a desire on the part of each to leave the others behind. Just so,
+we small fellows of the great horse family feel our ambition to run and
+win in the simple trial of speed.
+
+I was glad to see that Bettie looked happily on as we awaited the
+signal to start. Her eyes shone and once she felt the sport was sport
+indeed for us, she was quite as ready to enjoy it as anyone.
+
+The flag was waved and off we flew. Marco Boo, who I thought looked
+sullen as he fell into line, lagged at the rear, taking no notice
+apparently of Will Barrows’ angry cries and efforts to make him push
+on. I was slightly ahead from the start, Tony Swift but a pace or two
+behind. Go-It was keeping up a steady, sweeping gait without a sign of
+breaking.
+
+At the end of the second round Marco Boo was way behind. Go-It was
+nearly at my side. Tony Swift had fallen back by a couple of hands’
+breadth.
+
+All at once Marco Boo lowered his head, struck out his heels, shook his
+mane like an angry steer, and tore as if wild, causing loud shouts and
+cheers to rise from the amused and now freshly expectant crowd.
+
+Before the third round was completed Marco had distanced all but
+myself, and I, bound to be the winner again if possible, ran as if for
+my life, no more than a yard ahead of the suddenly awakened Marco.
+
+And so on until within a few feet of the goal. Will Barrows, ready to
+shout with triumph, sat lightly in the saddle, raising himself every
+other moment as if to lighten the pony’s load, his high, exultant tones
+no doubt lending speed to Marco’s bounding hoofs, at the same time I
+knew Perley Bolt was trembling with excitement, as with fierce and
+husky voice he called me “good, good boy,” and entreated me to make but
+one bound more.
+
+Only a bound it seemed, and a second time I should have leaped to
+success, but within that short stride to a second victory my hoof
+caught, I tripped, and amid loud huzzahs Marco Boo rushed to the pole.
+
+I did not quite fall, but the sharp halt at the critical moment proved
+my Waterloo. There had been a slight defect in the splendid track from
+the first of our starting out. It may be our flying hoofs had deepened
+it. What wonder that my small hoof catching directly in the little rut
+should have arrested my flight, and stopped the headlong race?
+
+It was Will Barrows’ turn to exult and receive congratulations as he
+patted Marco Boo’s head with real pride. Leaving me to myself, Perley
+Bolt went over to the spot where I halted, then going up to the group
+about Will Barrows he said angrily,
+
+“Why shouldn’t Dexter have slipped? Go look at the hole big as my two
+fists where his hoof caught. Wonder is he wasn’t thrown and I with him!”
+
+“Oh, none of that,” jeered Will Barrows. “You made the terms yourself,
+Perley,” he repeated laughingly: “‘There must be no making up of
+excuses for those who do not win. Whoever comes in first will do it
+fair and square the same as I did with Dexter.’ I’ve got the fastest
+pony in town.”
+
+Of course, Perley could not say a word to this, and he turned away with
+a frown on his face not pleasant to see. I was wishing he would come to
+me for my left knee was beginning to be painful, and I realized that
+in sinking downward on clapping my hoof into that hole I extricated it
+with a wrench that was going to tell.
+
+As I stood by the rail merely fastened by my bridle I longed to have
+Phil apply the liniment that always helped me when sprained or bruised.
+I gave a low whinny, looking toward Perley, but he impatiently bade me
+“shut up” and I wondered how I would fare when at last he should deign
+to notice me.
+
+I soon felt that a bunch was rising on my knee, but speechless animal
+that I was, it was useless trying to make my displeased young master
+understand that I needed care and easing.
+
+That is one of the hard parts of being a mere animal without voice to
+make a plaint or tell of suffering. Patience is the only thing that
+helps us, and few human beings imagine how much patience and endurance
+poor dumb animals have to teach themselves, in order to bear their
+aches and pains, and also to excuse the thoughtlessness of masters,
+young and old.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+It seemed as though Perley would never come to my aid. But alas! how
+cold and unkind was his manner when he finally stood beside me!
+
+With a cross, impatient jerk he drew the bridle from the rail, and
+pulled me along, not stopping to mount as usual. For this, however, I
+was thankful as my knee ached so it would have been hard to have borne
+him. He did not go along the usual road, but branched off toward a
+piece of woods lying between Greenpoint and Emsted, the next station.
+
+What was he about to do? The forbidding expression of his face boded
+no good for poor pony being led through this forest path. Not one
+word had he spoken thus far since leaving the auto grounds, only had
+paced along in sullen silence, now and then jerking at the rein. But
+he was my master, my keeper, and I could but follow where he led;
+then an unavoidable stumble made me long for a bit of sympathy, until
+stretching my long neck, I rested my chin for an instant on his sturdy
+shoulder.
+
+“Get away there, you dunce!” he cried, tossing me aside with such a
+violent motion that I kept as far from him as possible.
+
+In a secluded corner he fastened me securely.
+
+“There!” he cried defiantly, “stay where you are until you can learn to
+stand upon your feet instead of getting down on your knees just before
+the end of a race. When I get ready I’ll come for you.” And off he
+strode.
+
+At the farm I had heard all kinds of stories about the treatment of
+animals at the hands of masters good and bad. Among others, I had heard
+how some men would stop right where they were with a stubborn horse,
+unharness, and tie him to the nearest tree, there leaving him all day
+and perhaps all night without food or water.
+
+Well, perhaps a horse or pony would deserve to be left alone and kept
+hungry and thirsty who through willfulness or ill temper refused to do
+a master’s bidding.
+
+But there was I, a faithful pony, if I do say it, always willing and
+obedient, because of an accident which I could in no way prevent,
+condemned to be left for hours without food or water, and without
+greatly needed care.
+
+What right-minded person would not cry shame on the ungrateful boy,
+willing to so misuse me!
+
+I gave one prolonged, pleading whinny as Perley marched away. He took
+no notice of it and was soon out of sight. Had he noticed that I limped
+as he led me along? He probably had as he did not mount as usual, but
+was too much maddened to appear either to notice or care.
+
+The hot June sun filtered through the trees, but a soft breeze fanned
+and helped me. If I only could have lain down, it would have been great
+relief. But the bridle was fastened tightly to a branch on a level with
+my head, and either lying down or cropping grass was an impossibility.
+
+It was an hour before noon when Perley left me. A far away clock had
+struck four in the afternoon before anyone passed through the woods.
+I was truly to be pitied. My mouth was parched after the hard run. I
+was hungry, as my breakfast had been an early and hurried one. My knee
+by this time felt about three times as large as it really was. It was
+particularly wearisome holding up my head as I was obliged to, and all
+my pony-being was silently crying for relief.
+
+All at once I pricked an upright ear. A sound of whistling came from
+afar. Gradually it came nearer. My ears are keen and can distinguish
+between sounds even at a distance. I soon knew it was quite a young boy
+who was approaching, one who had not whistled very long.
+
+Sure enough; pacing through the woods, his hands in the pockets of his
+short trousers, a little old polo cap on his head, came a boy eleven
+or twelve years of age. His sunny hair fluffed around his forehead
+scarcely concealed by the cap on the back of his head, the gay tune he
+was attempting going well with the bright, boyish face and careless
+stride.
+
+[Illustration: WITH DEFT FINGERS HE UNFASTENED THE STOUT REIN.]
+
+He was passing me by, seeing nothing of the poor pony hidden by rank
+bushes taller than he. I could not see him go. A long, shrill whinny
+made him look around in surprise. Another instant brought him to my
+side. His voice, the gentle, caressing voice of a dear, tender-hearted
+laddie, was like music and healing to my ears.
+
+“Why, hossy!” he began, his dark eyes running me over with not
+altogether unpractised an air, “How came you here, your head strapped
+up in that style, your eyes heavy for this time o’ day? Bless us, but
+you’re tired! Been running?”
+
+He was passing a hand swiftly over me as he talked, and I stood with
+one leg uplifted, for my knee was aching with dull thuds.
+
+“Ha!” he cried suddenly, “what’s this? What’s got your knee, hossy?
+Looks to me as if you’d been used pretty hard. Come here, now.”
+
+With deft fingers he unfastened the stout rein, letting down my tired
+head. Then he led me across to where a large rock high enough for
+him to seat himself comfortably, enabled him to look me over more
+thoroughly.
+
+“Thirsty?” he asked.
+
+I whinnied and stretched my head toward the kind hands.
+
+“You come with me,” he said again.
+
+“Lame, aren’t you? Well, you’re too fine a little fellow to get the
+treatment somebody’s given you. Jinks! but I wish you was my little
+hossy, wouldn’t you get the care though!”
+
+He smiled a bit ruefully and added: “Between you and me, pony dear, I
+don’t get just the care myself I might have. But never mind! I’m going
+to take care of myself before long, then I’ll have a better chance
+perhaps. May have a fine little hossy of my own some day, who knows?
+Now drink.”
+
+He had been slowly leading me along a foot path I had never trodden
+before, and all at once before my half-closed eyes gleamed the clear
+water of a spring,—oh, gladsome sight! I drank and drank as if never to
+be satisfied. Then I cropped the sweet, fresh grass growing all around
+the green glade.
+
+“You’re tired and hungry and hurt,” said the boy; “chomp away there
+until you’re satisfied, then let’s see what ails that puffy leg.”
+
+After satisfying my hunger, I felt overcome with fatigue, but on
+dropping to my knees, I whinnied with pain, then stretched my left
+leg straight along the grass. This gave the boy a good opportunity to
+examine it closely.
+
+“Jinks!” he exclaimed, “you’ve got a sprain there that’s got to be
+looked after, or first thing you know, you’ll have a stiff joint,
+then—they won’t want you long.”
+
+He felt all around, pressing gently the swelling, and peering close as
+if attempting to discover the cause of the wound. Then he looked into
+my mouth, quite with the air of an experienced little jockey. He seemed
+puzzled and began whistling as if to help out his thoughts. Then he
+said a queer thing:—
+
+“Hossy, I don’t believe I should think much of your master, and I’d
+like to know you, if I should see you again.”
+
+He got up and went over to the spring. In a moment back he came, his
+rather doubtful looking handkerchief sopped full of water. Oh, but it
+felt good, that cool, refreshing, helpful rag, bound far as it would go
+about my inflamed knee. I lifted my heavy eyes in dumb, yet I hoped,
+expressive gratitude to his face.
+
+“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he said. “Well, let’s have it again.”
+
+Four times he went to and fro, kind, bonnie, willing, pressing cooling
+water against the hurt knee, already less painful as the wet, healing
+bit of cloth was applied.
+
+It was past five o’clock when tramping feet were heard, coming briskly
+through the woods, and at a little distance Perley Bolt began looking
+for a vanished pony. In a few moments he came into view when my sunny
+young friend called out,
+
+“Hulloo there! Looking for an injured hossy?”
+
+Perley came over in hot haste. “What you doing with my pony?” he asked,
+neither his voice nor manner those of a young gentleman.
+
+But he of the sunny hair was not afraid. He began,
+
+“I found this pretty pony in anything but a pretty fix. He was starved,
+parched and his head tied up so high he couldn’t rest neck or limb.
+Worst of all, he’s got a sprain that if you don’t liniment or salve
+pretty freely when you get him home, he’ll have a knee stick stiff,
+then let’s see you drive or ride pretty hossy any more.”
+
+“I’m able to take care of my own pony,” was the haughty reply. “He
+went back on me at a race this morning. I tied him up as a punishment
+for his clumsiness, pitching into a hole, and losing me the victory
+of having the fastest pony in town. He might have looked where he was
+going and not disappointed me so! Have you let him feed?”
+
+“Yes,” the boy answered brightly, “I let him crop grass and watered
+him. I tied up his leg too.”
+
+“Well, he won’t get anything more to-night,” snarled Perley. “As to his
+knee, Phil at the stable can see about that.”
+
+I knew the kind boy watched as Perley urged me to my feet and led me
+away. I tried at the last moment to look my gratitude, and hoped my
+young friend understood. At the edge of the woods Perley mounted me,
+but I had to limp so badly he soon took to leading me again. He gave
+directions to Phil not to feed me, but to see what my knee might need.
+As he went toward the house, Phil, a great-hearted, characteristic
+Scotchman, muttered:—
+
+“Hoot! an it’s mesel will feed Meester Dexter all he desarves. Plenty
+o’ water the laddie will get too. An’ ye may think yersel lucky,
+Meester Perley, if the braw leetle beastie gets oot o’ this wi’ a
+whole knee, th’ foolish lad thet ye are! Cross an’ cranky because the
+bit o’ a horse treeped into a hole, like as ye’d done yersel, had ye
+coom upon it, wi’ your eyes feexed on a pole!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The next morning I was much better. Phil’s strong liniment had put down
+the swelling, but my knee was still sensitive and when Perley proposed
+riding me to a spot three miles distant to see a ball game, Phil
+declared it would be unwise and perhaps ruinous to do so.
+
+But my headstrong young master would not listen to the knowing groom,
+and so to the game and back I bore him, six miles in all. Before we
+reached home, I was quite lame again with worse pain in my knee than
+I had felt before. Phil rubbed and bandaged, gave me a careful drying
+off, and a nice warm mash of bran and meal. The next day something in
+his keen blue eye made Master Perley think it best not to meddle with
+his judicious treatment.
+
+I was coming up all right again, but one night when it had suddenly
+grown cold for June, Perley, without saying a word to Phil, put on my
+saddle and rode me to Emsted, where some young people were to have a
+moonlight dance. Here I was left standing in an open shed for several
+hours without a sign of a covering.
+
+At midnight, Phil, who had a good room upstairs in the stable, heard me
+breathing hard and laboriously. He knew an attack of asthma had come
+on, a trouble to which horses and ponies are quite subject upon taking
+a sudden cold.
+
+This proved disastrous. What with my knee, which swelled again, and the
+wheezing, difficult breathing, I was a poor sick pony, entirely unfit
+for use for several days. At that juncture something occurred which
+brought about one of the important changes of my life.
+
+Once again I was getting better, when Perley resolved to drive me a
+mile beyond Emsted in company with Marco Boo and Tony Swift, whose
+owners like himself were to attend a picnic. Phil refused to get me
+ready, declaring it a sinful shame to ride a pony not wholly recovered
+from a bad bruise and an illness besides.
+
+Phil was a thoroughly experienced groom, caring well for me as well
+as for a splendid Morgan bay in a wide box stall at the other end of
+the stable; but being a carriage horse only, I seldom saw the valuable
+thoroughbred of which Mr. Bolt, Perley’s father, was both fond and
+proud.
+
+Now, Phil stood his ground, declaring me still a half sick pony. Hard
+words followed. Cuddled in my comfortable stall, I heard Perley give
+lordly orders, and Phil declare he’d be “pickled, salted an’ roosted”
+before he’d comb or saddle me again until I was fit for the road.
+
+Perley threatened to go and tell his father that Phil had refused to
+obey orders. But this time the Scotch temper was thoroughly roused.
+“’Tis to your father I’ll gang mesel’,” spurted Phil, “an’ tell the
+whole story o’ yer mis_chee_vous ways wi’ the puir leetle hoss! Meesery
+enough ye’ve caused him, now I’ll hev a bit worrd to say.”
+
+At that I noticed Perley changed his tune. He told Phil he needn’t get
+me ready, he’d do it himself. But Phil’s sturdy reply would have made
+me smile, could a pony manage to smile.
+
+“It’s neither you nor me will saddle th’ pony th’ day. To yer father
+I gang, an’ wotever cooms o’ it, may coom. I’ll stan’ noo more o’ yer
+dour actins, ye’ll see noo!”
+
+Off strode Phil in the direction of the house. In a few moments he
+returned, Mr. Bolt with him. Perley tried to look spunky and injured
+as his father approached, but before he could speak a word his father
+asked sternly,
+
+“What’s this I hear about your determination to use a lame, sick pony?
+If what Phil tells me is true, I’ll sell the little fellow next thing I
+do!”
+
+Mr. Bolt was an indulgent, generous man. It was a fact that his son
+had more money to spend than was good for him, also the boy had been
+allowed to have his own way to too great a degree. But his father, if
+open-handed and easy-going, was of a kind, humane nature, and anything
+like cruelty and injustice even toward defenceless animals, was
+something he had no mind to tolerate.
+
+Perley listened, half smiling at his father’s indignant outburst, not
+thinking it best to deny the things Phil had accused him of. But as his
+father turned away he said with a low laugh:—
+
+“Dad blusters and scolds, then forgets everything before he reaches the
+next corner.”
+
+Phil made no reply. Mr. Bolt started for the city, and Perley went off
+to go by train to the picnic.
+
+About the middle of the morning a brisk, businesslike man made his
+appearance at the stable, saying he had come for “Dexter”, a pony Mr.
+Bolt had sold him.
+
+Phil was taken by surprise, notwithstanding what Mr. Bolt had said.
+In fact he found it hard to believe the truth until Mr. Van Vim, whom
+he knew for a straightforward man, showed the receipt, convincing him
+that I and certain effects had really been sold. Mr. Van Vim, who kept
+a first-class livery stable only a few streets from Mr. Bolt’s place,
+had not needed to look me over before purchasing. I was well known in
+Greenpoint.
+
+As Phil went about getting the saddle and blankets, now also the
+property of Mr. Van Vim, he talked to me in grieved, regretful strain:—
+
+“Dexter, dear-r, I’ll be greetin’ fer ye! I will that! But Meester
+Bolt, he hev a temper matchin’ Master Perley’s, an’ maybe it’s a gude
+thing that he hev. Wot th’ lad will say when he finds ye’ve ganged
+awa’ I’m sure I dinna ken. It’s to a kind mon ye go, but ye’ll hev
+plenty to do at the livery. Verra like ye’ll not bide there lang. Bye,
+bye, laddie; keep yer coorage oop an’ gude luck attend ye!”
+
+And so I passed from my snug quarters at Mr. Bolt’s, having learned
+what a hard, unhappy thing it is for a pony to live with man or boy,
+who, having a hard, strong will, is too willing to indulge it.
+
+But I was to have a jolly kind of life at the livery.
+
+Go-It, Hiram Wilks’ smart stepping pony, was there, and several
+gentlemen of Greenpoint kept fine thoroughbreds with Mr. Van Vim, an
+experienced horseman himself, who gave the best of care to the animals
+committed to his keeping.
+
+A man named “Tillings” was my special groom, a rollicking Irishman who
+sang in time to the curry comb, or stamped and whistled with the back
+and forward movement of the polishing cloths.
+
+Under Tillings’ careful treatment I was soon thoroughly myself again.
+All signs of asthma disappeared, my knee healed and grew strong, and I
+was ready to race and romp with the best of them. By this time, July
+had come with its great heat, its myriad flowers, its thunder showers
+and usually delicious mornings. One day, a breezy girl came to my
+stall, exclaiming, “So this is Dexter? Well now, do you suppose he’ll
+take kindly to the side-saddle? Father won’t let me ride astride as
+some girls do, he thinks it isn’t graceful, but I’m going on that mock
+hunt to-morrow, and should like to ride this beautiful pony if I can.”
+
+Then I had a new experience. Tillings put on me a handsome leather
+saddle, with shorter stirrups than ever had dangled at my side before,
+and led me out to the stable yard. At a high block, Miss Gladys Fleming
+mounted, and Tillings began leading me, until, as he said, I “got uset
+to the flopping o’ skirts aboon the knees.”
+
+It did feel funny, all that cloth flapping against my sides, but the
+girl was light as a feather and must have ridden before, for in a few
+moments she told Tillings to let go, and sat firm and fearlessly as I
+ran at a good pace around the stable yard.
+
+There really was great sport the next day at what was called the “fox
+hunt”.
+
+It amounted to this: an anise-bag—a bag filled with anise seed or
+flower, of a strong, pungent odour—had been dragged over a considerable
+number of miles, and sporting hounds taking the scent raced toward
+the pretended lair of poor Reynard, who fortunately this time was a
+mere myth. Marco Boo was also in the race, and for the rest there were
+chiefly young horses.
+
+I gathered from what was said, that it was very unusual for ponies to
+be in a fox hunt, as the dogs were swifter than even trained hunters;
+beautiful, lithe horses, fleet, sure-footed, and fond of racing,
+folding their forearms and leaping a fence like cats, while scudding
+with light hoofs in eagerness to be “in” when the fox is run down.
+
+But this was a kind of “make-believe” hunt, and I tested my speed with
+real zest and enjoyment until horses and ponies stopped with the dogs
+at a thick patch of bushes, in which had been hidden a great black rag
+doll, placed for fun at the end of the anise trail.
+
+Could you but have seen the fate of the big rag doll! It was tossed and
+tossed, high as the indignant dogs could fling. Had it not been made
+strong with linen twine and leather bindings, the mimic man would have
+been a mere mass of tatters in less time than it takes to tell of it.
+But after half an hour of tossing, bounding, pulling and rending, there
+remained only fragments of what had been a funny figure serving as a
+decoy or piece of false game.
+
+Then the chief fun of the day being over, we raced home, a beautiful,
+sleek Arabian trotting with rhythmic measure to the light clatter of
+my hoofs. Go-It also made brave time, striding along with steady, even
+gait, Hiram Wilks using neither voice nor tightening rein to spur him
+on.
+
+It was a mirthful, healthful run, the sportive hounds alternately
+lagging behind, or rushing with lolling tongues way ahead of the
+ambling cavalcade that rode to the music of cheery voices and rippling
+laughter.
+
+It was a bright, happy chapter in my pony life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+I had soon decided that Gladys Fleming was an attractive, winsome young
+creature of warm heart and loving nature. She enjoyed putting me to my
+best speed on part of the homeward way, and I found hearty pleasure
+in responding to her clucks and smart little pats, leaving light
+hoof-prints along the even, sunny road.
+
+I also felt it certain that the lordly looking young man mounted on
+the mottled Arabian, a horse of medium build and perfect shape, knew
+quite as much concerning Miss Gladys’ fine traits as anyone did. The
+graceful Arabian was close beside me all the homeward path. “I want
+father to buy me this pony,” said the laughing girl, “but Tillings says
+that Perley Bolt is desperate to get him back. He stands ready to pay
+more than Mr. Van Vim gave for him. But Mr. Van Vim said he shouldn’t
+have him back under a week from the time he began to be driven again if
+at all. I’ve told Tillings to let me know just the hour the week is up
+and he promises he will. Then if Perley hasn’t reclaimed him, father
+says perhaps I shall have Dexter for my own dear pony. I want him
+dreadfully!”
+
+“When will the week be up?” asked her companion, Mr. Chester Moore.
+
+“Next Thursday at noon,” Gladys replied.
+
+Now I at once became anxious to have the three days remaining before
+Thursday noon expire. What would take place before then, who could
+tell? I only knew I was very, very anxious to have Gladys for a
+mistress, but was helpless to let her know it. I could only stretch out
+my neck for the caress she was quick to give as she dismounted at the
+stable, and look after her with beseeching eyes as they led me back to
+my stall.
+
+Two days after this we had a bit of rare sport at Van Vim’s. There
+was a great cat that persistently kept around the stable. Had he been
+useful and of a good disposition he would have been welcome and kindly
+treated. But he was determined to tease and pester the more nervous
+horses, and would worry the little dogs that were really afraid of him.
+Consequently the stable men tried to get rid of him.
+
+One day, Tillings was obliged to go some twenty miles into the country,
+taking a horse and buggy to a man who had purchased both. He was to
+return by train. Here was a grand chance to dispose of “Hector,” as
+he had been dubbed. It was thought to be no cruelty to drop a great
+healthy cat, and let him grub for himself or find a good home, as he
+could, if he only would behave himself.
+
+The trip was taken, Hector released, and given the privilege of teasing
+where he could. Late in the afternoon Tillings entered the stable to
+behold Hector perched a-top of a great bran box, as the man said,
+“grinning from ear to ear.” He had reached Greenpoint by ways best
+known to himself, sooner than Tillings had reached it by train.
+
+Before this, a grocer had wanted him, and one morning carried him away.
+No; Hector had made up his pussy-cat mind to stay at Van Vim’s stable,
+and stay he would whether wanted or not.
+
+So there he was still nibbling at the fetlocks of mettlesome horses,
+and tormenting every little dog that followed its master to the stable.
+Tillings set his mind to work wondering by what means he could drive
+him away once for all. He could do nothing cruel, yet was bound to rid
+the place of him as soon as possible.
+
+On that day, the second after the fox hunt, Marco Boo, two or three
+frolicsome young horses and myself were in the stable yard, all full
+of life and fun, as without tether or rein we were free to caper about
+as we chose. Tillings was fastening a “boot” around the leg of a horse
+that “interfered” when Hector gave a sly nip at the thoroughbred’s hind
+leg.
+
+“Quick as a wink” Tillings seized the great cat and threw him over into
+the stable yard midst the kicking, romping horses. A spry animal like
+a cat is hard to be cornered. It will either run up a tree, leap to a
+fence or cuddle in a corner, defiance in every bristling hair. Nature
+has taught him the sharp trick of eluding running hoofs and rolling
+wheels.
+
+But for once Hector was completely confused. There was no tree to
+climb, the fence was too high to be reached by a single bound, and the
+rounding fence offered no corners. Neither was horse or pony going to
+mince matters for the frightened cat’s accommodation. Had Tillings
+stopped to witness Hector’s dilemma, his kind heart might have failed
+him in carrying out the deserved penalty.
+
+He ducked as for his life between our legs, tried to leap the fence but
+failed, clawed at it for a knot hole, but there was none. Finally in a
+fierce attempt to reach a crack at the stable door, he came down plump
+on Marco Boo’s back. The pony immediately laid down, and rolled over,
+shedding the nimble cat, who squeezed himself close to the fence while
+perilously near the bounding hoofs he could not seem to elude.
+
+At length in wild frenzy he made a bold dash, flew to the back of a
+horse and from that flew completely over the fence, landing with a slam
+on the back of an astonished staghound, who immediately gave fierce and
+growling chase. The loud whistle of his master called him back, but
+Hector’s flying heels made the men who witnessed the droll scamper roar
+with laughter.
+
+[Illustration: HE MADE A BOLD DASH—FLEW TO THE BACK OF A HORSE, ETC.]
+
+And that was the last of Hector. What with scratching for his life
+midst a yardful of heedless, scampering horses, escaping by a
+furious bound and merciless tumble, to be chased by a great growling
+hound of a dog, Hector evidently was warned by every scrap of feline
+instinct he possessed, that he had better seek pastures new in which to
+indulge his teasing nature.
+
+The week was not quite up when it would be decided who was to become my
+new mistress or master when an event occurred, which, all unforeseen,
+was to bring greater changes in my life than any I had yet even dreamed
+of.
+
+From remarks that have reached my ears, it must be that men and women
+think their lives are changeful, but they perhaps seldom give a
+thought to the fact that poor dumb animals feel change only second in
+keenness to the way human beings feel it. We are susceptible to great
+homesickness, notice, sometimes quite unhappily, a different diet, and
+have been known to grieve to death over parting with a beloved master
+or mistress.
+
+But in speaking of changes, I had heard Phil at Mr. Bolt’s stable,
+exclaim, “Ah, weel a-weel, sic is life!” and Tillings at Mr. Van Vim’s
+livery, cry, “Faix, an’ sich is life!” So I suppose if many an animal
+could use human language, its cry would be, “Ah well, such is life!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The July night closed in misty and dark, for there was no moon.
+Tillings had long since gone up to his room, and for hours the dull
+thunder of his heavy snoring had boomed along our stalls.
+
+I slept and waked and waked and slept after the manner of most
+animals. As I slowly opened my eyes after a long nap, I heard a low,
+slow, grating noise which did not in the least disturb Tillings’ deep
+slumber. No dog was about the place or his quick ear would have heard
+the quiet picking, and a roaring bark would have brought Tillings down
+in great haste.
+
+Very stealthily at length a man entered, carrying a queer kind of
+light. I know now it came from a “dark lantern,” a kind of lantern
+shedding light from a small opening that could be quickly closed. It is
+sometimes called a “bull’s eye.”
+
+This silent figure tiptoed from stall to stall, casting a swift,
+searching glance into each. Then he came back to mine, lifted my feet
+very gently, and I think stuck some kind of soft, thick padding along
+each hoof. He next unhitched my long, leather chain and led me slowly
+and guardedly out. As he did so, I gave a loud, long whinny, but for
+once Tillings did not hear, and it was so against my nature to kick or
+struggle, it never occurred to me to do either.
+
+He closed the stable door without a sound, walked me fully a quarter of
+a mile, then mounted bareback and set me to a smart, steady pace. We
+journeyed all the rest of the night, and nearly all the next day, until
+I could scarcely hobble.
+
+Before daylight the pads in my hoofs, which made my hoof beats almost
+noiseless, had rolled into little balls hurting me so the man relieved
+me of them. And at times he would dismount and walk beside me a few
+miles. As he was a heavy man I could not have stood the long journey as
+I did, had he made me carry him all the way. At noon he gave me a small
+pail of oats.
+
+Toward dusk, such a queer place as I found myself in! A wide, green
+space, with things called “tents” in which lived men, women and
+children. It was a gipsy camp. And a man named “Rondo,” a gipsy, had
+stolen me.
+
+I was not unkindly treated. Once we reached the encampment, water was
+given me,—clear and delicious it was too, right from a spring, and I
+was fed, meagrely I must confess, then fastened to a tree under which
+I could lie down, on a large, thick blanket, which was old and ragged,
+but yet kept me warm.
+
+I must have slept immediately upon lying down for I knew nothing more
+until a smart slap on my plump flank roused me, and a July sun was
+already high in the heavens.
+
+A busy scene was all around. Women were washing dishes at a rude table,
+breakfast was well over; men were brushing showy garments, while a few
+children danced to the music of bones and tambourines. I was given a
+scanty breakfast of plain hay, no oats, no sweet timothy rich with
+clover, but just dry hay and water.
+
+Then came the queerest performance in which I ever hope to figure. A
+swarthy man held me firmly by the bridle, while another man _painted_
+me from ear-tips to ankle-ends, and—black, coal black! my whole body
+matching mane and tail of midnight hue. Then they named me “Don.”
+
+So I was no longer a bay pony called Dexter, but a black pony by the
+name of Don.
+
+A brand new life was before me. It transpired that I was to be a “trick
+pony,” and although the few things I was to be taught were very simple,
+it yet was astonishing how soon I learned.
+
+First, I was to let no one mount me but Rondo and a boy called “Nick,”
+who fed, watered and cleaned me,—all I ever was cleaned. Every little
+while I was given a fresh coat of colouring, which I somehow hated.
+Soon I was taught to dance, “taking steps” after the manner of dancing
+men. Are you curious to know how this was done?
+
+I am glad to say no cruelty was resorted to. Animals, a great many
+of them, are just as fond of sugar as are little boys. This is
+particularly true of horses and ponies. A chunk of sugar weighing half
+a pound or more was placed before me, and in time I came to know, just
+as a child would, that when I had done what was required I would be
+given the sugar and not before.
+
+Rondo would stand before me, lift a foot and crook a knee. Nick would
+slap my leg, reaching out his hand to take my hoof. In this way I
+learned the first movement toward dancing.
+
+Then Rondo would slide a foot across the sward. I learned to slide a
+hoof in the same manner. Pretty soon I understood with a kind of “horse
+sense” that I was to try doing whatever Rondo did, at lesson time.
+Sugar rewarded each victory, and as said before, it was astonishing how
+soon I could lift a hoof, bend a knee, slide, half curvet, lift another
+fore hoof, slide, curvet, turn, chassé, and promenade a few steps.
+
+Then I was taught to “shed” anyone and everyone who attempted to mount
+me, except Rondo, Nick, and one of the little girls, if she was placed
+on my back by one of the men. I must shy, curvet and elude anyone else.
+Should anyone by a dexterous movement succeed in getting on to my back,
+I must lie down, half roll over, and adroitly spill the venturesome one.
+
+For several weeks my life in the gipsy camp was full of variety and
+much that was amusing while warm weather lasted. The outdoor life
+was pleasant and free, what was expected of me was easy in the main
+although I often was miserably tired when I laid down at night. My food
+also was coarse and scanty, and I missed pitifully the careful grooming
+that hitherto I had always received.
+
+One thing I had been taught with particular strictness was not to allow
+people to pat or caress me. This, no doubt, had to do with the paint or
+stain with which I was continually covered. Tricks however were not all
+that was expected of me.
+
+Every pleasant evening, Rondo, Mother Hubbard—the Madame of the
+tribe—two or three children and Nick, went to different villages around
+the place of encampment, and under a light, flimsy tent, Mother Hubbard
+told fortunes, Nick played bones or the tambourine, the children
+danced, and I showed off my few tricks.
+
+Wherever we travelled to and fro, on my back was a big box containing
+the velvet gown and tinsel cap in which Mother Hubbard arrayed herself
+as the fortune teller. Also in a great, unwieldy bundle was the
+portable tent which always must be erected by eight o’clock. Besides
+this, on the return trip the children would take turns in riding a-top
+of the load with which I was already burdened.
+
+Our tramps were long and tiresome. It was wonderful that the younger
+people could trudge so far, dance their jigs and flings, then walk even
+a portion of the way home. But there was excitement in seeing troops
+of people, chiefly young, in gay spirits and bright summer attire,
+pouring into the lighted tent, and midst jokes and laughter hearing the
+fortunes told, which always must have been pleasant and agreeable, for
+they went as they came, full of high spirits and laughter.
+
+Once in a while older people came, and more than once, an officer of
+the law, in helmet, and with brass buttons on his coat, would come and
+look around, but he always found things quiet and orderly.
+
+I sometimes felt a hope stirring within me that he might be looking for
+a lost pony, but how, pray, would anyone know me for a bay pony when
+wearing a coat as black as black could be?
+
+After being in a place about two weeks, we would pack up and go—always
+by night—to some other town, select a rural spot, a bit of woods if
+possible, pitch the tents, then at night go to some “open” near the
+village and draw the crowds sure to assemble.
+
+I think a good deal of money rolled into Mother Hubbard’s tin cup.
+The tribe had plenty of food such as it was, but they lived on coarse
+supplies, and largely from the baker’s wagon sure to promptly find us
+out. The men smoked a good deal, as also did Mother Hubbard.
+
+As for me, I soon began to pine for the healthful nourishment always
+enjoyed until now. Hay and freshly dried grass, never anything else was
+given me. No sweet timothy, fragrant with clover, no oats or crushed
+corn; never a mouthful of scalded bran after a long, long march in a
+chilly drizzle. For by the last of August we began to have cool, damp
+nights, when the men, women and children would drink steaming tea
+brewed over a good hot fire kindled outside the main tent after the
+night’s tramp.
+
+But no one thought of poor “Don” tethered too far off to feel the warm
+blaze, and longing for a little outside or inside warming.
+
+During September I began to show the effects of hard work and no
+play. My smooth coat had grown rough, my ankles swelled from too much
+wearisome travel, and I was tired all the time, very tired. I should
+have really suffered now from the cold but for an old piece of carpet
+that was thrown over me at night.
+
+Oh, how I longed for the home farm, or Mr. Bolt’s warm stall, or Mr.
+Van Vim’s well kept stable, with Tillings to care for my pony wants!
+
+[Illustration: OH! HOW I LONGED FOR THE HOME FARM!]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Pretty soon I began to hear talk about going into “winter quarters.” I
+didn’t know what this meant, but in time it was going to be understood.
+Through September we had mild, beautiful days, and the first part
+of the month the nights were not so bad, seeing I had the piece of
+carpeting to keep me warm. Business was still brisk during the evening,
+and our tramps were taken as usual.
+
+But one night toward the last of the month there came a terrible rain
+storm. Oh, how the winds whistled through the piece of woods, and how
+the wet, brown leaves came twirling down! The big tent shook as if the
+stout poles and thole pins would not be strong enough to keep it erect.
+
+Great sheets of rubber cloth were stretched and fastened outside, while
+a little charcoal stove made the inside comfortable. The wind sent
+whiffs laden with the scent of steeping tea across to where I stood,
+not half protected from mighty gusts of wind and rain.
+
+The storm passed, but my joints were left stiff and sore from unkind
+exposure. Dancing was out of the question, neither could I journey
+forth at night laden with boxes and the weight of a child. My old
+enemy, asthma, returned, and after two nights the men had raised a rude
+shed in which I felt some approach to comfort.
+
+This was doubtless felt to be a necessity, for I heard Rondo say to
+Nick: “We can’t afford to lose him, the best pony we ever had.”
+
+I did not know in just what way he might “lose” me, but I confess to
+feeling that I didn’t much care what became of me. I had become nothing
+better than one of those “pack horses” I had heard talked of at Van
+Vim’s stable.
+
+Yet even they were better off than I. For being naturally beasts of
+burden, did I not once hear Mr. Van Vim telling of a pair of short,
+hardy Percheron draught-horses, splendid creatures of style, strength
+and endurance, that could do their twelve hours of hauling day after
+day, and seem not a whit worn from month to month?
+
+I was not cut out for a beast of burden, yet that was what I had become.
+
+October came while I was still wheezing with asthma, although getting
+better from day to day. The stiffness also was getting out of my
+joints, but with that horse sense which often serves dumb animals well,
+I still pretended great stiffness, for I knew that once I appeared able
+to get about with anything like ease, I would have to do severe work
+in helping to move heavy loads, for now the tribe was all ready for
+winter quarters.
+
+It was getting far too cold to pitch the flimsy tent at the outskirts
+of villages; even the young people now preferred indoor sports, and it
+was plain to see that gipsying was over for the season.
+
+It was just at this time, when the camp was about to break up, that
+Nick, boy of all work, tent cleaner, pony tender and errand boy, was
+taken ill, and Rondo with great unwillingness declared that another boy
+must be hired for a few days. No time must be lost in moving, as the
+authorities had given notice that they must move on.
+
+I had learned many things about gipsies during the nearly quarter of
+a year I had been with them. Above all, that they desire secrecy,
+seclusion, to be let alone by people from outside. To this end they
+avoid all help except such as their own company can furnish. The same
+few persons will keep together year after year, as it is deemed a
+misfortune to receive even new members to what is called “the tribe.”
+
+Each one, even to the children, has his or her special work to do. They
+bought almost nothing in the way of wearing apparel at this camp. One
+woman begged such clothing as was needed, mended and kept it decent.
+Mother Hubbard cooked, washed dishes and told fortunes at night.
+
+Nick’s duties have already been told. Now he was down with fever
+symptoms at a time when he was specially needed, and someone must be
+hired for a few days to help.
+
+From all accounts it appeared that many miles distant was a broken down
+building, half house, half barn, where they managed to live for the
+winter. Their journey to this place must be taken within a few days.
+
+Rondo was anxious and snappish, Mother Hubbard also vexed and
+disappointed at being obliged to wait, and to hire help in getting
+necessary preparations made.
+
+“I shall get a raw hand, and get rid of him soon as possible,” was
+Rondo’s remark as out he started in quest of the “raw hand.” He did not
+return until near night, then all I could see was that he had someone
+with him.
+
+Ah, but what was this? Why at the sound of the new voice did my sides
+suddenly quiver with excitement and my nostrils dilate with expectancy?
+
+Surely I had heard that voice before! And strangely enough too, at a
+time when I was yearning for sympathy and aid.
+
+There were duties claiming Rondo’s attention when he returned, and I
+had not been fed since early noon. So the new boy was sent to give me
+my dry, coarse food, fasten on my carpet blanket, and shut the loose
+door of the shed for the night.
+
+Oh, oh! how like music came the familiar tones!
+
+“Hulloo, hossy, how are you? Well, well, what’s got you? Been sick?
+Lame in the joints, hey?”
+
+He lifted a lantern and eyed me at close range.
+
+“Jolly! but you make me think of a gay little duck of a pony I knew
+once, a fine dashing little fellow, all spirit and fire, but you’re
+thinner than he was, much thinner; besides, he was a bay, and you’re
+black as Egypt.”
+
+Could I but have cried out, how thankful would I have been! But, how
+happened it that this sunny-haired, sunny-tempered lad had wandered
+from Greenpoint, to this woodsy place, many miles distant as it was?
+
+Ah, but did he not whisper to me that day when Perley Bolt had left me
+to myself: “Between you and me, pony dear, I don’t get the care I might
+have. But I’m going to work to take care of myself before long, then
+I’ll have a fair chance perhaps: may own a fine bit of a hossy myself
+some day.”
+
+Hope was strong within me that when daylight came he would see things
+more clearly. But alas! so deeply ingrained had become the black stain
+completely covering me there seemed little likelihood of being able to
+make myself known. They called the boy “Archie,” and to my delight he
+was sent again to feed me in the morning. His habit of talking while
+working was a great comfort.
+
+“Now, hossy,” he began, “you’re going to be well curried, for sadly you
+need it, but first you must be watered and given something to eat. You
+breathe better than you did last night, but these joints are pretty
+stiff yet, I see.”
+
+“Phew! you ought to have hot mashes these brisk mornings, and your
+legs ought to be poulticed overnight. They haven’t half cared for you,
+have they, boy? Never mind, you’ll be better one of these days, only I
+sha’n’t be here to see. I’m on my own hook now, earning here a little,
+there a little. I’m going to be what they call a ‘vet,’ a veterinary
+doctor, able to take care of ailing horses and other animals. I love
+a nice hossy, as I do a nice man, and never a rough touch will any
+creature o’ God’s get at my hands.”
+
+He was rapidly preparing my meagre breakfast as he talked, and while so
+busy Rondo came to the shed, saying he wished to comb me himself.
+
+Oh, what a disappointment! For I had thought that the vigorous combing
+Archie would give me, might rub off some of that false colouring and
+set his quick wits working in a way to lead to a discovery.
+
+Early in the afternoon it became necessary for Rondo to take a long
+tramp, seeking certain supplies from the distant village. Also there
+came a welcome call for Mother Hubbard to tell fortunes at a fair to be
+held in the village. Caring nothing for the walk of two miles and more,
+out set the pair, to be absent nearly the rest of the day.
+
+Archie had been given orders to put fresh straw in my shaky stall, a
+thing greatly needed, also to nail on a few shingles where the rain
+could run in rather too freely.
+
+Hope again rose within me as he promptly set about doing as he had
+been told. I learned that Nick was some better, but still confined to
+his mattress of straw in the chilly tent. As usual Archie began talking
+as he worked:—
+
+“I should think it was high time something was done to this draughty
+place, Mister Pony. It needs more than about half a dozen shingles to
+make it fit for any kind of a creature to sleep in, but I’m going to
+get out of this as soon as I can: had to sleep last night rolled in
+a blanket, but thank fortune, ’twas my own! Carry it in a big roll
+wherever I go: that, and a comb, toothbrush and a couple of decent
+towels.”
+
+“Lord Rondo offered me good pay to take another boy’s place for a few
+days, but the other boy must get well quick for I don’t think much of
+this crowd.”
+
+He broke into a merry whistle, as out he thrust the old grass that
+had grown damp and musty in the miserable shed, then, still whistling
+blithely, he began bringing in a little straw, and such dry underbrush
+as he could find.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Could I not make some sound or sign to make him understand? I turned on
+him eager eyes and whinnied in a low, urgent manner.
+
+He stopped abruptly and looked at me attentively.
+
+“Jolly!” he cried, “how exactly you whinny like that little hossy I
+knew a few months ago.”
+
+I tried again, stretching far my neck in endeavour to reach his kindly
+hands.
+
+He dropped a mass of brush and came close to me.
+
+I rubbed my head against his shoulder, beseeching in every way I could
+that he would find me out.
+
+The boy looked puzzled. “If only your coat wasn’t so black,” he
+murmured, “I’d surely think I knew you, but it couldn’t be a pony would
+change like that.”
+
+He rubbed his hand along my neck. Ah! that was just what I wanted him
+to do.
+
+[Illustration: HE STOPPED ABRUPTLY AND LOOKED AT ME ATTENTIVELY.]
+
+“How rough you are!” he murmured again. “Not half combed. I wonder
+where Lord Rondo keeps the curry? He didn’t tell me not to use it;
+perhaps thought I wouldn’t know how. Ah, I see it on this nail.
+Great comb I should say: stumpy, harsh, bah! What a thing to use on a
+decent pony!”
+
+He ran it slowly, deeply, along my neck, then paused and looked at it.
+I trembled with joy and anxiety.
+
+“I never felt such sticky, stubby hair on any created beast before,” he
+said under his breath.
+
+I whinnied and moved close to him as I could.
+
+“You want a good, thorough cleaning, don’t you?” he asked, his hand on
+my head.
+
+I tried to whinny. “Yes, oh, yes!”
+
+He ran the comb along the same place.
+
+“You look brown where I’ve scraped,” he said, the puzzled look
+deepening on his face.
+
+“Hossy,” he cried softly, “I’m going to _wash_ you where I’ve combed
+and scraped, but don’t tell.”
+
+He went out and was gone some time. When he came back he had found a
+rag and a bit of soap. Then he rubbed and rubbed. Finally he gave a
+long, low, and much surprised whistle.
+
+“As true as you’re a born pony, you’re a _bay_,” he said, “and—jinks!
+but I understand!”
+
+I stamped, whinnied and stepped and stepped with excitement.
+
+“Oh, I’ll find you out fast enough now, I reckon,” he added, as if in
+reply to my urgent antics.
+
+He felt my fetlock, carried a slow, cautious hand across my left knee;
+“Yes, that’s where it was hurt and swelled,” he ruminated.
+
+I switched my tail and fairly nodded my head, trying to assure him he
+was perfectly correct.
+
+Then to my joy he looked into my mouth.
+
+“The very hossy!” he exclaimed with a gleesome chuckle. “I said I
+should want to know you if we met again, and here we are! Nippers show
+over three years of age, milk teeth all gone. Now, Mister Pony, let me
+tell you a story:—”
+
+“There was a great hullabaloo when a certain pony’s stall was found
+empty one morning early in last July. Tillings at Mr. Van Vim’s stable
+was wild about it. He was sure the stable door was securely bolted the
+night before, and no sound reached him during the night.”
+
+“The meanest thing about it was”—the lively voice dropped, and it was
+in hurt, grieved tones that the boy went on, “Perley Bolt, your former
+master, raised a story that I, _I_ had let you out!” I looked around.
+“Oh, I know you well enough now,” he said with decision; “you’re the
+‘Dexter’ that disappeared from Greenpoint three months ago, and has not
+been heard from since.”
+
+“You see, Perley Bolt never forgave my helping poor pony the day he was
+left tied, head up, in the sun, without food or water and with a hurt
+knee.”
+
+“More than one person was sadly put out by your disappearance. Mr. Van
+Vim felt you a considerable loss. Perley Bolt made a great noise about
+it; blustered, scolded and said you must be found, as he considered
+you were almost as good as his again, and finally tried to fasten the
+matter on me.”
+
+“I am thankful to say the story was so ridiculous no one believed it,
+for those who knew me best, knew me for at least an honest boy, who
+would have wronged no one in such a way. Besides, when they looked
+around in the morning, there were footprints in the mud where the hose
+had been used before the stable door, that must have been made by a man
+wearing about a number ten shoe. Such a shoe as Lord Rondo must wear.”
+
+“I had been working for my half-uncle, a hard, driving man, who would
+give me no chance for study, paid me almost nothing, and never praised
+me even when I became almost sick in my efforts to please him.”
+
+“Perhaps the person who felt the worst over your vanishing, next to Mr.
+Van Vim and Tillings, was Mr. Clifton Moore. He is soon to marry sweet
+Gladys Fleming, and as she was very much in love with you, he had it
+all arranged that you were to be one of his wedding presents. Perley
+Bolt would not have got you anyway.”
+
+“Now I must think up what to do. I’ve been going westward, hoping to
+get steady work, but I’ll get you back where you belong somehow,—see if
+I don’t!”.
+
+After a few moments I heard the boy mutter, “Now I must cover up my
+tracks;” and after a long search he came with the familiar pot of black
+juice in his hand, and carefully smoothed over where he had rubbed the
+blackness off.
+
+My heart seemed at rest. When, or in what manner “Archie” would restore
+me to rightful owners I could not tell. But the very idea of occupying
+what now looked to me like the most luxurious place in the world, my
+box stall at Van Vim’s stable, and receiving Tillings’ skilled care,
+was enough to make me patient and almost content.
+
+True, I was kept in the dark a number of days as to what Archie
+intended to do, for there was further delay; Nick’s recovery was
+tryingly slow, and Archie had stayed on for a week, when one morning
+he came to the shed, his face troubled, his voice trembling with
+indignation.
+
+“Hossy,” he began, “your time has come; _our_ time I mean. Rondo
+refuses to pay me what he promised. He says I have only earned my keep.
+He agreed to give me fifty cents a day in money: little enough for what
+I’ve had to do and the miserable scraps of food I’ve had to put up
+with.”
+
+“I’m sure now that he was the one who stole you, for last night when I
+was snoring to pretend sleep, I heard Mother Hubbard ask:”
+
+“‘Wot would you do, Rondo, if Greenpoint folks found out as you took
+Don?’”
+
+“I heard an angry cluck, then all was still.”
+
+“Mother Hubbard took great risk in asking such a question when I was in
+the tent, even if I was asleep, and even though she never supposed I
+had ever heard of such a place as Greenpoint. Be patient a bit longer,
+Pony Dexter, and we’ll see what we’ll see.”
+
+At noon back he came to the shaky shed, his face one broad grin, yet
+with a manner so quiet and reliant, I knew something of importance was
+about to happen.
+
+“Great luck, hossy,” he chuckled softly, “great luck!”
+
+“Mother Hubbard goes to some kind of a ‘bazar’ this afternoon in her
+fortune-telling rig. Nick must have more medicine, and Rondo won’t
+trust me with money to buy it. Besides, he wants to see a pedlar about
+borrowing a big horse to help in moving certainly by another week. He
+knows I intend making off to-morrow, pay or no pay.”
+
+“I’ve told him ‘Don’ must be walked up and down the road, or he’ll be
+too stiff to travel next week. I hope you could walk pretty briskly now
+if you tried.”
+
+I kicked out first one hoof, then another. He gave me a sportive slap:
+“I do believe you could run,” he said with another low chuckle. He went
+on:
+
+“Now, Dexter, I’m going to have my bundle all ready at the edge of the
+woods, and as soon as Rondo is out of sight I’ll lead you slowly along
+out to the road, then—we’ll run for it!”
+
+“Fortunately Rondo goes in a different direction from the one we must
+take, and if only you have the courage and strength, we’ll be miles
+away from this place before anyone knows we have gone.”
+
+Up came all my proud, hot blood. I no longer had asthma. I no longer
+was lame. True, I trembled like a leaf, but only because of my wild
+desire to be out and away. With Archie on my back, how I would romp and
+tear, leaving the gloomy woods and the unkempt gipsy tribe far, far
+behind me.
+
+No knowledge and no care as to how the night would be spent occurred to
+me; one thing was sure: I should fare as well as my trusty rider, and
+all the comfort he could devise would be mine.
+
+The grand moment came. Into the shed walked Archie, a grave look on his
+young face. He knew more than I did of the risk he was about to run,
+but there was no hint of faltering.
+
+He had to quiet me as we left the shed, for I was inclined to jump and
+caper at the joyful prospect before me. In fact I was so frisky that
+only when Archie turned as if to lead me back to the shed could I come
+down upon my four feet and manage to walk sedately along.
+
+“That’s right, pony,” he cheered, “it will be time enough to show how
+smart you are when we take to the road in earnest. For a noble trot
+there is before you, my boy, before we’ll sail or swoop into harbour.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+At the spot where he had left his great bundle, Archie unrolled it,
+and doubling his blanket into a square, put it on my back, for he had
+brought away only the bridle which was rightfully mine. This reduced
+what he had to carry to a quite moderate package.
+
+Once fairly started, I still was not allowed to rush or put forth all
+my strength.
+
+“Steady, steady there!” warned Archie; “prudence is the word for you
+and me, pony boy; the way will be as long as you can stand until
+to-night, and will be still longer to-morrow. I hope to-morrow night
+will see us at home, but you must not tire too soon. Besides, there is
+no knowing what Lord Rondo may do. He isn’t the man to let a fine pony
+escape him if he can help it, even if it was stolen in the first place.”
+
+“Keep on going, but don’t get winded before we reach a place of
+possible concealment. So, ho, pony, it looks as if we were on the high
+road to good times, you and I! Let me tell you something not mentioned
+before.”
+
+“Mr. Van Vim has offered a handsome reward to anyone discovering or
+bringing you back. I don’t care for money just because it is money. I’d
+have returned you, or told your whereabouts merely to have seen right
+done, but if I should get a little help to start me on my way, don’t
+you see what a thing it would be for me?”
+
+“I could begin by helping an experienced horse doctor, with perhaps a
+chance at some schooling. But you see a chap must have clothes. I’ve
+got three precious dollars earned by doing odd jobs, and I’ve managed
+to find food and shelter for nearly two months.”
+
+“That is all the money I own, and Rondo ought to be ashamed of himself
+to go back on his word, but, was I at all wise to trust a gipsy?”
+
+Away we went at a steady, sensible gait, and thankful I was that
+breathing seemed easy, and my legs after their rest of a few days had
+gained more strength than I had supposed.
+
+Archie kept me to by-paths and back streets all he could, yet taking
+care to follow the telegraph poles, which he knew to be a guide.
+People did not appear to take much notice of us as we tripped along.
+Fortunately the weather had held mild, and before the early dusk had
+fallen, not a few miles had been gone over.
+
+As it grew darker the boy drove me to the back of a barn at the rear
+of a house that had no tenants. Here he tied me, saying, I thought a
+little anxiously:
+
+“Now don’t whinny, or make any sound. I’ll soon be back.”
+
+He went away, and I was glad on looking around to see a neglected
+orchard back of me, a place where it was not likely anyone would be
+strolling at that hour. But I was relieved when my boy-rider returned,
+a long, stout paper bag in his arms.
+
+He managed to mount, and with the paper bag before him drove me on.
+There was a young moon and by its light he guided me still further
+until we came to what I felt sure he was looking for, a piece of woods.
+
+The place was at the end of a long, straight road, and in the stillness
+of night any sound could be heard a long distance away. Into the shade
+of partially leafless trees I was led, and from the big paper bag was
+given a small measure of oats and hay.
+
+“Must keep some for to-morrow,” Archie said.
+
+From the pocket of his loose cardigan jacket he took some crackers,
+which furnished all his meal. Shortly before entering the rather too
+open dell, I had stopped at more than one water trough, so I did not
+suffer for a drink.
+
+Animals of nearly all kinds require a great deal of water, but there
+was a joyous instinct keenly alive that night making me feel sure of
+having as much water as would be good for me, all in good time.
+
+The boy who was now my kindly keeper did some strange things in
+preparation for the night. He appeared to examine every foot of ground
+within a large space. He also forgot to talk aloud as he peered hither
+and yon. At length he gathered together a great pile of leaves; oh, a
+very great pile. Spreading his blanket on the ground, he bade me lie
+down. As I did so, he spread a portion of the blanket over me, so that
+it was both under me and forming a coverlet.
+
+“Now, hossy,” he said, “it may be tough, but you must do just as I say.
+After I get you fixed, lie still, don’t attempt to roll over or lift
+your head, but lie perfectly quiet.”
+
+Then he began heaping leaves over the blanket, which fortunately were
+not damp, as they might have been. I had sense enough to know he was
+hiding me. My head was on a little mound which made it easier for
+breathing, and tired as I was, sleep would not be long delayed.
+
+Archie crouched at the foot of a still leafy tree. I feared he would
+take cold, although under the cardigan jacket was a decent sweater; but
+we were just a boy and a pony trying to work our way to home and proper
+shelter, not over strong either of us, and just now rather unprotected.
+
+But the idea kept floating through my head: “Only for to-night,
+only for to-night, and then our tribulation will be over.” In broad
+daylight, the brawny gipsy would not dare to follow and claim me,
+for then, Archie could declare boldly that I had been stolen, and
+investigation would follow.
+
+But in the dark and stilly night it would not be pleasant to have him
+discover and overpower us.
+
+It grew very quiet and very dark as the young moon set and the night
+grew late. Even the few crickets that had chirped for a while drowsed
+off into silence. It must have been past the middle of the night when
+pounding hoofs sounded from afar on that long stretch of road.
+
+Then a rustling nearer at hand caused me to partly raise my head and
+peep around. Archie was climbing the leafy tree. He had caught the thud
+of those heavy hoofs and was ascending to a place of safety where he
+could see and not be seen.
+
+I curled under my nest of leaves, but kept ears alert. The hearing of
+animals is acute. I knew by the way that rider approached that his was
+an eager quest. Two men were on the back of the powerful horse that
+doubtless had been borrowed to aid in the night search.
+
+At the strip of woods they halted, and the light of a lantern flashed
+amidst the darkness. I heard Rondo’s harsh voice say:
+
+“They can’t be here. We can see right through the trees and there’s
+nothing tethered. I think the spry young rogue would push on to that
+thicker bunch of trees and tangle two miles farther on.”
+
+“Do you think the pony could go that far?” asked the other. “I doubt me
+but we’re on the wrong track altogether.”
+
+“Don’t croak,” snapped Rondo, “we’ll push ahead to the other thicket;
+the pony might be glad to get away, and do better with his legs than
+we’d think for.”
+
+Ah, Mister Rondo, you were right that time if never before!
+
+He swung the lantern to his arm, made a circuit, coming to within a
+few yards of where I lay quiet as the leaves that covered me. I could
+imagine how big the boy’s eyes must have grown as he watched the
+search-party that now wheeled and rode away.
+
+As the hoof beats grew distant, Archie came to the ground, cowering
+close to me as if to get warmth and comfort from my warm sides. I moved
+a little to change my cramped position, while feeling glad to have the
+boy near me. And very glad I was to hear the tones of his voice.
+
+“That’s right, hossy, turn a little; it will relieve you. But we must
+be wary. I think our pursuers will come back when they miss us two
+miles ahead. Now I must heap up these leaves again; it won’t do to have
+an ear or a leg give a suspicion.”
+
+He scattered handfuls of leaves all about me, then lay down close to
+my curious bed. Could he only have been sure of the course Rondo had
+taken, we might have stolen off in an opposite direction, but no doubt
+the boy was wise in thinking it the best plan to stay where we were.
+
+I felt as though another night had passed when distant hoof beats again
+sent Archie climbing the tree after hastily scattering more evenly my
+covering of leaves.
+
+The great horse came thumping along, stopping short while the men took
+a second sharp look by lantern light along the sombre network of bushes
+and scattered trees. But neither figure of boy nor form of pony were
+visible in the dampness and unbroken stillness of the place.
+
+“They haven’t been here,” growled Rondo, pulling a sharp rein, and
+clattering along the road, went horse and men, but not on an unbroken
+trot. Every little while they stopped, and it was evident, listened if
+possibly the sound of a pony’s foot might reach their ears.
+
+As all grew still again, back to my side came Archie, his teeth
+chattering with cold and anxiety. I sat up partly, enabling him to rest
+his head on my shoulder, but I do not believe either of us slept for a
+long time. Then I was glad when the sound of heavy breathing told me
+the boy was sleeping, his sunny head on my shoulder, his light form
+resting against my side.
+
+I dozed too, for I was very tired. The trot of the long afternoon,
+although deliberate, had taken a good deal of pluck and strength, and
+the few hours of complete rest now taken were worth a great deal. And
+if I felt cramped from lying unusually long in one position, not for
+anything would I have disturbed the dear laddie, resting so quietly
+beside me.
+
+The pale light of an October morning was glimmering through the trees
+when at length the boy awoke.
+
+“Hullo, hossy,” he cried, a note of triumph in his glad young voice:
+“here we are, all right! Now for a make-believe rub, a bite of
+breakfast, then a long pull and a hard pull, and if I’m not mistaken,
+we’ll sleep in snug, warm quarters to-night—somewheres.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The rest of the oats and hay were sweet to my taste and I could have
+wished there had been more; as for water, I must wait for that until
+some friendly fount or trough appeared on the way.
+
+Archie ate a few crackers, shook out his sweater and jacket and gave
+the blanket a vigorous flouncing, but could do no more for me than to
+shake off or pull away the damp leaves clinging to mane and tail. The
+blanket was strapped to my back, and then to the road again.
+
+It will always be my belief that that was the longest day of my life.
+I was made to travel slowly from the start, and it was fortunate that
+such was the case: otherwise I never could have accomplished such a
+tramp. Archie, too, walked miles, for every little while he would
+dismount and stride along beside me.
+
+At noon, my legs began to ache, I did not breathe quite easily, and had
+it not been for the belief that by night the hard journey would be over
+I feel sure discouragement would have overtaken me. And an unlooked for
+trial was before us.
+
+Early in the afternoon, Archie stopped at a store where “hay, grain and
+feed,” was on a sign over the door, and suddenly came face to face with
+the man, Rondo.
+
+“Ah, my fine, honest friend,” the man began, “so you thought to make
+off with my pony, Don, did you? Well, you see I can travel by train
+faster than you can pony-back. Now I’ll trouble you to get off, and let
+me get on that sprightly Don.”
+
+“No, I sha’n’t,” said Archie stoutly. “This pony belongs to Mr. Van Vim
+of Greenpoint, and I’m going to take him home. He was stolen away last
+July, and his name is Dexter, not Don at all.”
+
+“You can’t prove that,” roared Rondo. “I’ll call a policeman and tell
+him you are a young thief.”
+
+“Call away,” said Archie. “This little hoss has been advertised for,
+and I’ll ask Mr. Policeman to give the pony a scrub and see him turn
+from rough black, to a smooth, handsome bay.”
+
+At that, the gipsy said some very improper words but moved off
+muttering:
+
+“I wish I’d caught you in the night, you young cub!”
+
+Archie made no reply, but I was glad Rondo had found out that we knew
+how I came to be a trick pony in his unclean camp. We saw no more of
+him. He had reason to be afraid of us, while we had no reason to be
+afraid of him, seeing we were not alone or in the dark.
+
+[Illustration: SUDDENLY CAME FACE TO FACE WITH THE MAN RONDO.]
+
+Again, mile after mile was passed during the afternoon, and until
+the early darkness fell. At last the way became familiar. Ah, how good
+it seemed! Here were outlying places where I had galloped and romped,
+first with Perley Bolt on my back, then with the lark-loving boys who
+hired me from Van Vim’s. Tillings also had exercised me along these
+smooth roads, and there was the great auto building and track where the
+races had taken place.
+
+Oh, joy! I could almost see the snug, warm box stall at Mr. Van Vim’s
+livery, and smell the clover-laden hay as wearily, haltingly and nearly
+spent, I reached the stable door.
+
+There was Tillings taking in a great pitchforkful of bedding from a
+side door, and at the boy’s sharp whistle he paused, a curious look of
+inquiry on his ruddy face.
+
+“Hulloo, Tillings,” Archie sung out in his blithest tones.
+
+“Hulloo, yourself,” Tillings replied aghast: “thought you’d started out
+to find your fortune, Archie Train. What forlorn little beast you got
+there?”
+
+“It’s Dexter, I’ve brought him home.”
+
+Archie spoke quietly, yet I felt him quiver with satisfaction and
+delight. Tillings replied in disgust,
+
+“No, you don’t! That sorry little nag any relation to Dexter? No, oh,
+no! You can’t come that over me!”
+
+“Ah, but I’ve the great story to tell you, Tillings. First, though,
+the poor little hoss wants everything the stable can do for him. He’s
+cold, hungry, thirsty and footsore and lame from almost endless travel.
+He’s been worked, half fed, and exposed, until he’s poor as a crow.
+Then again he’s been painted black right over his natural coat of bay.”
+
+Tillings by this time was standing open-mouthed, the pitchfork of straw
+tilting ludicrously in mid-air.
+
+“Where’s he been?” he gasped.
+
+“Off in a gipsy tent. Gipsies stole him. They’ve taught him to dance
+and show off. Come now, I tell you the poor little hoss is all used up.”
+
+For answer, Tillings rushed into the stable, threw the bedding into a
+stall, and called lustily:
+
+“Misther Van Vim! Misther Van Vim! will ye be comin’ here, plaze.”
+
+In a moment Mr. Van Vim appeared, and Tillings jabbered off the strange
+story just heard as if only half believing it. Meantime Archie stood
+holding me by the bridle.
+
+“Take care of the poor little fellow,” Mr. Van Vim ordered. “And you,
+Archie Train,” he added, “had better go and stay with Widow Hebble for
+a few days; she will be glad of your help, I know; then something may
+turn up for you to do. But I want to ask one thing: please say nothing
+to anyone about Dexter’s return. I have my own reasons, for not wanting
+it known at present. I hope you will oblige me in this respect.”
+
+Archie promised to keep the matter strictly to himself, waved me a
+cheery good-bye, and went his way, leaving me thankful at knowing he
+had a good place awaiting him.
+
+How could a pony describe the comfort and luxury of what followed for
+me! Exhausted as I was, Tillings knew all about the refreshment and
+renewing that would come through needed treatment.
+
+First, I was watered, but not too freely, then fed, oh, how
+delightfully! Never can I forget the satisfaction and healing of that
+hot mash! It was only bran thoroughly scalded with a little meal added,
+but it really gave me strength for what Tillings thought should be done
+before letting me lie down for the night.
+
+Next into the washing trough went pails of hot water. But before
+washing, Tillings put some strong smelling stuff all over me. I know
+now it was to make that colouring matter come off the more easily.
+The man worked more than an hour, talking and scolding to himself as
+spongeful after spongeful of dark, sticky stuff yielded to the vigorous
+rubbing and was washed away.
+
+Three times the trough was filled before Tillings considered me
+cleansed. Then how good the curry comb and drying cloths felt. At last
+I was all soft, glossy and _bay_!
+
+Tillings, surveying his work, cried almost with a sob:
+
+“Lean as a starved cat ye are and weak as a new baby; but it’s plump as
+a patridge an’ sassy as a magpie we’ll be havin’ you in no time, that
+we will, thin!”
+
+He added more in his own jolly tones:
+
+“Your oarn toasty blanket will cover ye all spick an’ span; now to bed
+wid ye, an’ if there’s a claner, more promisin’ little hoss than you be
+th’ night, jes’ trot him up, an’ I’ll be takin’ off me hat till him; I
+will that!”
+
+He led me to my beautiful, longed for stall. Then what glory! In my own
+fine bay coat, clean, well-fed, and having been abundantly watered, I
+laid me down to such sweet, untroubled sleep as I had not known for
+many a long week.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Early the next morning, Tillings had me out for another thorough wash
+and such a combing as a boy would have called “fierce.” He surely
+had some reason for wishing me to look my best, and I was willing to
+believe him when he said I looked like “velvet,” whatever that may be.
+
+My breakfast of oats, timothy and clover, put still further new life
+into me, and everything took on a fresh, bright look on that cool
+October morning.
+
+No sooner was I polished for the day than in came Mr. Van Vim and with
+him a gentleman that I did not at first recognize. They came directly
+to my stall.
+
+“You see,” Mr. Van Vim began, “he is the same fine, shapely little
+fellow he always was, very thin just now, but that is owing to having
+been overworked and underfed. In a couple of months he’ll be the Dexter
+of last spring, fleet of foot, sound of limb, as clipper a little pony
+chap as ever stood.”
+
+“Perley Bolt has given me no rest in his craze to know if the pony has
+been found. He would be glad to pay more for him than in the first
+place. But I’d rather not sell him back to young Bolt. He’s a heady
+lad, and apt to forget that animals have feelings.”
+
+By that time I knew the gentleman for Mr. Clifton Moore, who was to
+marry pretty Gladys Fleming. Was he about to buy me? If so, what cheer!
+For although I had the best of care at Mr. Van Vim’s, yet it was a
+livery stable, and there was no knowing who might come along and hire
+me, or become my master.
+
+It was a pleasure to find that Tillings had the same habit as Archie of
+talking to himself aloud or to an animal he might be grooming, for in
+that way I found out a great deal that otherwise I would not have known.
+
+In fact I have noticed that most men and boys are apt to address
+an animal, giving considerable confidence, as if sure of not being
+betrayed. They never are. And we really and truly understand much more
+than human beings suppose us able to.
+
+As days went by I found that a good deal of secrecy was being observed
+concerning me. I felt it must be that Mr. Van Vim and Tillings were
+taking great care to conceal the fact of my return, and I of course
+remembered the charge that had been given Archie not to speak of me.
+
+I was led several times around the stable yard early in the morning and
+again after dark for exercise, but at other times was kept in my stall,
+where no one from outside would be likely to see me. Orders to the
+stable hands would doubtless be obeyed.
+
+One morning on bringing me my oats and hay Tillings broke out:
+
+“Ah, th’ jolly b’y you’re gettin’ to be, an’ not belonging to us anny
+more aither! Whist, whilst I tells ye: Misther Moore was on th’ point
+o’ buying Marco Boo, young Will Barrows’ spruce young pony, when Marco
+ups and throws Misther Will, cracking one o’ his ribs.”
+
+“Will, he confessed to bein’ at teasing Marco by ticklin’ first
+one ear, then th’ other, but Misther Moore he wouldn’t thrust his
+sweetheart ov a lady with anny beastie wotever that wud toss a rider
+even wor it bein’ teased. It’s the patience ye hev to hev! An’ it’s th’
+poor dumb crathers that must offn be found fault with, wen it’s th’
+young oarner that’s to be blamed.”
+
+So much I learned from Tillings: yet I was left in the dark as to
+whether it was Mr. Moore who had bought me.
+
+Another day while Tillings was grooming me, he began:
+
+“Faix, and it’s the sly dogs are them gipsies! The boy as brought you
+back told some secret officers, as Mr. Van Vim had him to, where the
+rogues wor encamped, an’ right away th’ very nex’ day the police was
+afther thim; but naither hide nor hair, trace nor trail cud they find.
+Off in the night they’d sthrayed, an’ not a rag left on th’ way.”
+
+“P’raps it’s jus’ as well. A brave bit av a lad is Archibald Train.
+Good luck till him! An’ good luck will it be to anny animal as comes
+under his hands, be it dog, horse or pony. ’Tis th’ gentil touch he hev
+that coodles thim over to onct.”
+
+Tillings left me unsatisfied. What about Archie—Archibald Train?
+Tillings said just enough to make me curious, forgetting I did not know
+his thought although hearing his words.
+
+But one glowing day soon afterward it was all made plain. Into my stall
+bounced Archie, bright-eyed, joy and gladness written all over his
+boyish face. He began in the old, familiar way:
+
+“Hulloo, hossy, my, but aren’t you getting the boss for looks! The cock
+of your ears is grander than ever. Your neck arches like the pictures
+of those swans, and the gloss you’ve got on you!”
+
+“Have they told you the news, hossy dear? P’raps not, because it’s a
+great secret, and a secret they are bound to keep it until the right
+moment comes for things to be known.”
+
+“Do you know to whom you belong? Well, just now your owner is Mr.
+Clifton Moore, but the last of the month you will be the property of
+_Mrs._ Clifton Moore.”
+
+“You’re all bought, hossy, and have you heard of the fine new stable
+that is going up?”
+
+I gave a little stamp to show my interest.
+
+“No? Well, there’s a fine new house going up not far from here, and at
+the back of it, they’re building a very pretty stable. When Mr. Moore
+gets married he is to take his lovely wife to the new house, and you
+are to be one of his wedding presents to the beautiful Gladys, your
+home to be in the brand new stable, and for a little while I am to care
+for you.”
+
+“Won’t you get combed and fed? And won’t your fine bay coat have a
+shine on it that won’t come off? We’ll see, we’ll see! Another hossy
+will keep you company there.”
+
+“That high-blooded Arabian will have a wide box stall, and an older
+groom is to look after us all. But Mistress Gladys is to know nothing
+about your being on hand until she sees you in the stall, then, won’t
+she dance?”
+
+“Mr. Moore knows how much she was pleased with you and her desire
+to have her father buy you. And very badly she felt on hearing that
+you had been spirited away. Not that she had any great hopes of your
+becoming her pony, for Perley Bolt has told up and down, high and low,
+that some time he should get you back.”
+
+“Perley Bolt knows nothing of your being in town. Wouldn’t he raise a
+rumpus if he heard? Not that it would do any good if he did; but Mr.
+Van Vim says quiet ways are always the best.”
+
+“Nighty-night, hossy. Great days coming for you and me. Look sharp,
+they’ll soon be here.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So here I am, the luckiest pony in the world. Three box stalls are in
+the well-built, convenient stable where I have my home. The mottled
+Arabian occupies one, and the third is reserved as an “extra,” a good
+thing to have, and likely to come in use at any time.
+
+Dick, the older groom, knows so much about horses it is a pleasure to
+watch him go about caring for us both. Does a joint swell? He knows
+exactly the liniment or salve that will put it down at once. Does the
+Araby beauty “strike” or “interfere”? Dick has a “boot” on in time to
+prevent serious mischief. Is either of us threatened with colic? Dick
+is the boy that forces something down our throats, stopping the pain in
+a trice.
+
+Tillings had me clear of threatened asthma, in less than a week after
+my return from the camp, and he showed skill in bandaging my knee,
+so that that too became rid of all bad symptoms, caused by too much
+dancing and burden-bearing in the gypsy camp.
+
+Was not Gladys indeed a gladsome creature when she saw me? After
+hearing my story and knowing I had been rescued and returned to become
+her own dear pony, her delight was like that of a happy, overjoyed
+child.
+
+I think her husband must have felt repaid for having so promptly
+secured me, in seeing her great satisfaction. And won’t I bear her
+carefully over the road, fly with her, nimble and sure-footed on the
+merry fox hunt, speed evenly and without stumbling on the morning
+gallop, or race for her without breaking should there be another test
+of pony speed?
+
+Archie said, in telling of the new home, that he was to care for me for
+a little while.
+
+Yes; I am his special care. But I have gleaned the fact that he is
+to go to school as a boy of his age should. He has a home with the
+“Widow Hebble,” a good motherly woman who looks after him with kindly
+interest, receiving in turn a portion of his moderate wages with Mr.
+Moore, and the many helpful turns the boy is able to give her.
+
+Dick tells him that when he is through school there will be plenty
+of skilled veterinary surgeons who will be glad of his assistance,
+meantime teaching him how to care for and cure ailing and valuable
+animals.
+
+One day, Perley Bolt saw me in a paddock by the stable door.
+
+“Handsomer than ever!” he muttered, eyeing me ruefully. “If ever I
+own a fine pony like you again, I hope I’ll know enough to treat him
+decently.”
+
+So it may be Perley will grow sensible as he grows older.
+
+I was glad to hear Dick telling Archie one day, that Marco Boo had been
+sold to a boy of a kind and gentle disposition who had no trouble with
+him at all. Marco is deserving of the best of treatment, and will be
+steady and willing, I feel sure, with a young master of the right kind.
+
+I must tell how amused I was at something Dick said the other day. He
+had been chattering away half to himself and half to the Arabian when
+he said briskly:
+
+“I tell you that young mistress o’ yours needs watchin’! Apples and
+lump sugar are all very well for hosses and ponies once in a while. But
+apples and sugar given too frequent brings on colic and all sorts o’
+jim jams.”
+
+But my laughing young mistress calls on me very often, especially when
+it is too stormy for her to go out. Whether Dick is “watchin’” or not
+she usually gives me a great lump of loaf sugar, and merrily enough I
+champ it down.
+
+I don’t believe sugar hurts ponies. And how I do love a great
+glistening chunk of white lump sugar!
+
+But better than that, and far better than all else in the world, do I
+love my fair young mistress, and dear Archie Train.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78664 ***