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THE PET HORSE
133
Day after day he found the group of big boys
waiting for him. They did not embarrass him
now by asking for rides, but took his permission
so for granted that he himself had scarcely any
chance to ride. However, it was interesting,
because it was his horse, after all, and they kept
appealing to him.
"Isn’t it my turn now, Johnny Blossom?"
"He’s mean, he is. It’s mine!"
"Are you crazy? He rode only yesterday,
John."
"Oh, John! Tell him to get off and let me
ride!"
"Don’t you do it! It’s really my turn."
My, oh, my! How exciting it was!
Bob — that was the horse’s name — knew
Johnny whenever he went into the stable; there
was no doubt about that, for the little horse
would turn around in his stall and whinny at
the sound of the boy’s step or voice. Of course
Johnny always had sugar for him and brushed
his pretty coat for him every day — dear,
cunning little Bob!
One day Otto Holm proposed that they should
see who could ride most quickly over a certain
distance. Otto, who of course had a watch,
should manage the starting; and Peter Prytz
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