The Tale of Pony Twinkleheels Part 2

The result both pleased and surprised him. When the currant struck Twinkleheels he laid back his ears, dropped his head, and let fly with both hind feet.

Johnnie Green promptly forgot that he had intended to eat those currants. One by one he threw them at Twinkleheels. It made no difference where they hit the pony. Whenever he felt one, he kicked.

Sometimes he kicked only the air; sometimes his feet crashed against the side of his stall.

Throwing currants at Twinkleheels became one of Johnnie Green's favorite sports. Whenever boys from neighboring farms came to play with him, Johnnie was sure to entertain them by taking them out behind the barn to show them how high he could make Twinkleheels kick.

As a mark of special favor, Johnnie would sometimes let his friends flick a few currants at his pet. And sometimes they would even pelt the old horse Ebenezer, who stood in the stall next to Twinkleheels. There was little fun in that, however. Ebenezer refused to kick. The first currant generally brought him out of a doze, with a start. But after that he wouldn't budge, except perhaps to turn his head and look with a bored expression at the boys in the doorway.

Johnnie Green and his friends were not alone in enjoying this sport. Old dog Spot joined them when he could. Unfortunately, when Twinkleheels kicked, old Spot always wanted to bark. And Johnnie didn't like noise at such times. He and his friends were always amazingly quiet when they were engaged in currant throwing behind the barn. And they were always peering about as if they didn't want to be caught there.

"Run out to the barn and tell your father that dinner's almost ready,"

Mrs. Green said to Johnnie one day.

"He's not in the barn," Johnnie answered.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Green asked. "I thought I heard him hammering out there a few minutes ago."

"No!" Johnnie murmured. "Father's in the hayfield."

"That's queer," said his mother. "I was sure I heard hammering.... Well, blow the horn, then! I don't want dinner to spoil."

So Johnnie Green blew several loud blasts on the horn. And he was glad to do it, for it gave him an excuse for having a red face.

He threw no more currants at Twinkleheels that day. Somehow it didn't seem just the wisest thing to do. But the next morning he made Twinkleheels kick a few times. "It's really good for him," Johnnie tried to make himself believe. "He needs the exercise."

VI

PICKING CURRANTS

If there was one sort of work that Johnnie Green had always disliked more than another, it was picking currants. Of course he didn't object to strolling up to a currant bush and taking a few currants for his own use, on the spot. What he hated was having to fill pail after pail full of currants for his mother to make jelly and jam.

It was queer. He certainly liked jelly. And he liked jam. But he had never found currant picking anything but dull. He always groaned aloud when his mother told him that the currants were ripe enough to be picked. And he always had a dozen reasons why he couldn't pick them just then.

Now, however, currant picking didn't seem such a bore to Johnnie. When his mother announced at the supper table one evening that Johnnie would have to begin picking currants right after breakfast the next morning he didn't make a single objection. And he had intended to go swimming the next day!

"I think--" Johnnie remarked--"I think some of the boys would like to help. After supper I'll ride Twinkleheels over the hill and ask the boys to pick currants with me in the morning."

Farmer Green and his wife listened to this speech with amazement.

"I never heard of a boy that liked to pick currants," said Johnnie's father. "Still, you can try if you want to."

"Come home before it gets dark!" said his mother.

"Look out for that pony!" Farmer Green exclaimed. "I don't know what's come over him. I stepped into his stall to-day and he kicked at me. I've never known him to do that before."

Johnnie Green promised to be careful, and to come home early. Having important business on his hands, he hurried away without a second piece of cake. And that was a most unusual oversight on his part.

In the morning three boys appeared before Johnnie had finished his breakfast. Though they had already eaten theirs, they accepted Mrs.

Green's invitation to sit at the table and have some griddlecakes and maple syrup. "If you boys are going to pick currants you'll want a good, big breakfast," she told them.

There was no doubt that they agreed with her.

"If they're as lively at picking as they are at eating you'll have all the currants in the kitchen by noon," Farmer Green remarked to his wife with a laugh as the boys trooped off toward the barn with their tin pails.

A few minutes later a noise as of terrific pounding reached the ears of Farmer Green as he stood talking with his wife.

"What's that?" he muttered. "It sounds as if the barn was falling down."

He ran out of doors. The racket came from the barn. There was no doubt of that. And he could hear Spot barking.

Farmer Green hurried across the yard. Somehow he guessed that Johnnie and his helpers had a hand in whatever was going on. Farmer Green did not run toward the broad front door of the barn. Instead he circled to the back of the barn and peeped around the corner. What he saw caused him no great surprise.

VII

CAUGHT!

There was a good deal of giggling and loud whispering at the back door of the barn. It ceased instantly when Farmer Green cried "Stop that!" in a loud voice.

Johnnie Green and his friends looked startled--and sheepish, too. They had been throwing currants through the doorway, to make Twinkleheels kick.

The boys fell back a few steps as Farmer Green joined them.

"Was Twinkleheels doing all that kicking?" Farmer Green asked Johnnie.

"It was so loud that I thought the barn would fall down any minute."

"We threw a few currants at old Ebenezer," Johnnie Green explained somewhat faintly.

His father gave him a sharp look.

"Huh!" Farmer Green grunted. "_He_ didn't kick--did he?"

"N-no! N-no, sir!"

"Did you throw at the bays?" Johnnie's father demanded.

"Only once or twice!" Johnnie confessed.

"Once or twice is too much," his father said sternly. "Don't meddle with the bays. And don't tease the pony, either. You've chosen the surest way to make a kicker of him.

"How long," Farmer Green demanded, "has this business been going on?"