The Tale of Pony Twinkleheels Part 4

Ebenezer bent his legs beneath him in a gingerly fashion and sank with something like a sigh upon the green, gra.s.sy carpet. It was only with a great effort that he managed at last to roll all the way over; and then he couldn't roll back again. Clumsily he flung his fore feet in front of himself and by a mighty heave pulled himself off the ground.

"Slow, isn't he?" Twinkleheels remarked to the Muley Cow, who was chewing her cud and looking on.

"He doesn't get up the right way," said the Muley Cow. "When rising from the ground one should stand on his hind feet first."

"I don't agree with you," Twinkleheels told her. "Ebenezer uses the right method. But he's terribly poky about it. You can almost hear his joints creak."

The Muley Cow was somewhat offended.

"I've known Ebenezer a great many years," she snapped. "I don't care to hear a young upstart--a mere pony--make fun of him."

Twinkleheels moved away. He felt the least bit uncomfortable.

"I don't like your young friend," said the Muley Cow to the old horse Ebenezer. "He hasn't a proper respect for old people like you and me."

"Oh, he's not a bad sort," Ebenezer replied. "He has a good many things to learn. Perhaps he'll be wiser by night. I shouldn't worry about him, if I were you."

The Muley Cow told Ebenezer that he was entirely too good-natured. And they went their own ways, grazing and rambling aimlessly about the pasture.

Now and then, during the day, they chanced to meet. And always the Muley Cow asked Ebenezer if Twinkleheels had learned anything more.

"Not yet!" Ebenezer said, each time. "The day's not done till sunset."

Well, late in the afternoon Johnnie Green came slowly up the lane and stood by the pasture bars and whistled. Twinkleheels and Ebenezer happened to be together when they heard that cheerful chirp.

"I'll race you to the bars!" Twinkleheels exclaimed.

"Agreed!" cried Ebenezer. The word was no sooner out of his mouth than he started with a rush. He was three jumps ahead of Twinkleheels before that surprised pony began to run.

"I'll soon catch the old horse," Twinkleheels thought. "He can't last long. I'll pa.s.s him before we reach the brook."

Before Twinkleheels came to the brook Ebenezer had crossed it in one mighty leap. He was pounding along with a powerful stride over the firm turf of the pasture. And behind him Twinkleheels' pattering feet struggled to shorten the distance between them.

To Twinkleheels' dismay he saw that Ebenezer was steadily drawing away from him. Although Twinkleheels ran his fastest, Ebenezer reached the bars six good lengths ahead of him.

X

EBENEZER'S RECORD

The old horse Ebenezer had beaten Twinkleheels in the race to the bars.

While Johnnie Green slipped their halters on them, and they munched the oats that he gave them, neither of them spoke. Johnnie mounted Ebenezer bareback; and leading Twinkleheels, he turned down the lane.

"You're not as slow as I thought you were," Twinkleheels said to Ebenezer as they drew near the barn. "And somehow I couldn't seem to get to running smoothly. I'd like to race you again. I think I could beat you next time."

"Perhaps you could," said Ebenezer. "I don't often run nowadays. But I did running enough when I was younger. I used to race at the county fair, every fall."

"Did you ever win a race at the fair?" Twinkleheels inquired.

"Yes!" Ebenezer answered. "Yes! I can remember winning a race now and then."

"He never lost a race in his whole life!" cried the Muley Cow, who was walking just ahead of them. "Ebenezer used to be known as the fastest horse in these parts. He had a record."

Twinkleheels gasped. "A record!" he exclaimed. "What's that?"

"I don't know, exactly," said the Muley Cow. "I never saw Ebenezer's.

But it must have been a fine one, for Farmer Green was always talking about it."

"A horse's record," Ebenezer explained, "is the fastest time he ever makes in a race." Then he added, to Twinkleheels: "You and I will have another race the next time we're in the pasture together."

Twinkleheels gave him an odd look. Somehow Ebenezer did not seem just a poky old farm horse, as Twinkleheels had always regarded him. For the first time Twinkleheels noticed that Ebenezer had many good points.

There wasn't a single bunch on his legs. And his muscles showed plainly as they rippled on his lean frame beneath a coat that was both short and fine.

"I don't believe I could beat you if we raced a hundred times,"

Twinkleheels blurted.

"Of course you couldn't!" the Muley Cow interrupted again.

"Oh, you might," Ebenezer said. "There'd be no harm in trying, anyhow.

Racing with me would be good practice for you, even if I did win. If you're going to have a race, don't look for an easy one! Choose a hard one. That's the kind that will make you do your best."

Twinkleheels thanked him.

"It's very kind of Ebenezer to race with you," the Muley Cow bellowed.

"You ought to feel honored."

"I do," said Twinkleheels. "But please don't talk so loud! I don't want everybody on the farm laughing at me because I lost a race."

The Muley Cow went into the barn grumbling.

"That pony is a young upstart," she muttered. "The idea of his telling me not to talk so loud! Ebenezer is altogether too pleasant to him."

Old Ebenezer continued to be agreeable to Twinkleheels. They often raced in the pasture, later. And though Twinkleheels never won once, he enjoyed the sport.

And he never called Ebenezer "poky" again.

XI

BRIGHT AND BROAD

Farmer Green had a yoke of oxen called Bright and Broad. They were huge, slow-moving fellows, as different from Johnnie Green's pony, Twinkleheels, as any pair could be. They never frisked about in the pasture. They never ran, nor jumped, nor kicked. They seldom even trotted. And when they did move faster than a walk they lurched into a queer, shambling swing.