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CHAPTER III.
THE PONY.
Thus our hero now remained, on a dark night, upon the open
high road, with his worn-out companion, a good mile distant
from his house. Still were his glowing cheeks burning with the
buffets he had received, and the scene through which he had just,
passed drove all other thoughts from his mind, that some time
passed by before Ivar felt that te pony was rubbing his head
against his shoulder, as if he meant to remind him that he had
an older and better friend than his new and rough acquaintance.
"You are right, my poor pony," said Ivar, intuitively
understanding the pony’s mute appeal. "I would be a fool indeed if
I should cause you to surfer by the ignominious treatent which
te wicked nobleman has inflicted upon us both. Console
yourself, dear pony; here is something for you." With these words,
lvar took the cake from his pocket, and allowed his favourite to
eat, bite by bite from his hand, afterward conducted him to a
small brooklet in the vicinity, and #aw with pleasure how greatly
the refreshing element seemed to revive the weary animal.
After he had bestowed, for half an hour longer, all the
assistance which the time and place allowed, Ivar grasped the bridle,
and walking beside the animal they both proceeded on their way
home af a slow pace, while the boy with his old friend carried
on the conversation.
"Now, pony, we have passed through quite a task to-day.
Don’t you think that many more such drives would displease
you? It would me, too. You would soon be gone. But what
do you think my father will say, because we come home so slowly
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