Chapter 3

"I wish you were going to the blacksmith's shop with me," Twinkleheels told Ebenezer wistfully. "Somehow I'd feel better about being shod if you were there."

"I shouldn't be surprised if I went along with you," Ebenezer told him. "I cast a shoe yesterday. And the three that I have left are well worn."

And sure enough! Inside a half hour Farmer Green harnessed Ebenezer to an open buggy. Johnnie Green brought Twinkleheels out of the barn by his halter, led him up behind the buggy, and jumped in and sat beside his father.

Then they started off.

"We're going to the village to get some new shoes," Twinkleheels called to old dog Spot. "Why don't you come, too?"

"I would," Spot barked, "but I always follow right behind the buggy; and you've gone and taken my place."

XVI

THE BLACKSMITH'S SHOP

Twinkleheels trotted proudly behind the buggy in which the old horse Ebenezer was pulling Johnnie Green and his father towards the village. Once Twinkleheels would have chafed at having to suit his pace to Ebenezer's. He would have thought Ebenezer's gait too slow. But ever since Ebenezer won a race with him in the pasture Twinkleheels had thought more highly of his elderly friend. He knew that if Ebenezer chose to take his time it wasn't because he couldn't have hurried had he cared to.

They reached the blacksmith shop at last, where Ebenezer and Twinkleheels were to get new shoes. Having been there many a time before, Ebenezer was quite calm. Twinkleheels, however, was somewhat uneasy. He had never visited a smithy. And he looked with wide, staring eyes at the low, dingy building. On the threshold he drew back, as he sniffed odors that were strange to him.

Johnnie Green spoke to him and urged him forward.

"I'll wait for Ebenezer," Twinkleheels decided. And he wouldn't budge until Farmer Green led the old horse into the smithy. Then Twinkleheels followed.

"Goodness!" he cried to Ebenezer a moment later. "This place is afire. Let's get outside at once!" He had caught sight of a sort of flaming table against one of the walls.

"Don't be alarmed!" Ebenezer said. "That's only the forge. That's where the blacksmith heats the shoes red hot, so he can pound them into the proper shape to fit the feet."

Twinkleheels had trembled with fear. And now he had scarcely recovered from his fright when a terrible clanging clatter startled him. He snorted and pulled back. He would have run out of the smithy had not Johnnie Green tied his halter rope to a ring in the wall.

"Don't do that!" the old horse Ebenezer called to him. "There's no danger. That noise is nothing to be afraid of. It's only the smith pounding a horseshoe on his anvil."

Twinkleheels looked relieved--and just a bit sheepish.

"I'm glad you came with me," he said, "I'd have been frightened if you--." A queer hiss made Twinkleheels forget what he was saying. "What's that?" he cried. "Is there a goose hidden somewhere in the smithy?"

"No! The smith put the hot shoe into a tub of water, to cool," Ebenezer explained. He couldn't help smiling a bit.

A scrubby looking white mare who was being shod turned her head and stared at Ebenezer and his small companion.

"It's easy to see," she exclaimed, "that that colt has never been in a smithy before. In my opinion he ought to be at home with his mother. This is no place for children."

Before Ebenezer could answer her, Twinkleheels himself spoke up sharply.

"I don't know who you are, madam," he snapped. "But I'd like you to understand that I'm no colt. I'm a pony. And I must say that I think you owe me an apology."

XVII

A WHITE VIXEN

The white mare that the blacksmith was shoeing looked much surprised when Twinkleheels told her he was not a colt.

"Well, well!" she cried. "A pony, eh? Who'd have thought it? Anyhow, you've never been shod in your life. I can tell that by the way you act." And she cackled in a most unpleasant fashion.

"What shall I say to her?" Twinkleheels asked Ebenezer. "She hasn't apologized to me."

"Pay no attention to her," the old horse advised him in an undertone. "She's a low bred person. I've often met her on the road and she always wants to stop and talk. But I hurry past her."

"What are you saying?" the white mare asked in a sour tone. "Are you gossiping about me?" She laid her ears back and showed her yellow teeth.

"You see why I don't care to have anything to do with her," Ebenezer muttered to Twinkleheels.

"I'd kick you if I could reach you--and that pony too," the white mare squealed. "I'm a lady--I am. And you'd better be careful what you say about me."

Because she was angry and couldn't kick either Twinkleheels or Ebenezer she felt that she must kick somebody. So she let fly at the blacksmith, who had just stepped up beside her.

Strangely enough, instead of jumping away from her, the blacksmith crowded as close to her as he could get. He knew what he was about. He hadn't shod horses for twenty years without learning something about them. He stood so near the white mare that her kick hadn't room to get going well. And the blacksmith wasn't hurt. He was merely disgusted.

"I declare," he said to Farmer Green, "this mare is the meanest critter that comes into my shop. She doesn't know anything except how to kick and bite. That old horse of yours is worth a dozen like her. I'd give more for his tail than I would for her."

Ebenezer tried to look unconcerned. The blacksmith had a hearty voice. Nobody in the shop could help hearing what he said. And Twinkleheels made up his mind that the blacksmith shouldn't have any reason to speak of him as he had of the silly white mare.

Twinkleheels watched sharply as the blacksmith captured a hind foot of the white mare's and held it between his knees. Then he began to nail on the shoe.

One thing puzzled Twinkleheels. Every time the blacksmith struck a blow with his hammer he gave a funny grunt. Twinkleheels nudged Ebenezer with his nose.

"Do you hear that?" he asked. "Is he related to Grunty Pig--a sort of cousin, perhaps?"

The old horse Ebenezer gasped.

"Bless you, no!" he exclaimed.

"Then why does he grunt?"

"Oh, that's just a way he has," said Ebenezer. "Some blacksmiths think it's stylish to grunt like that."

By this time the white mare seemed to be in a pleasanter frame of mind. At least, she let the blacksmith nail a shoe on each of her feet without making any objection--except to switch her tail now and then. And just as the blacksmith finished with her a man came and led her away.

"Now," said the blacksmith, "I'm ready to shoe the pony. And if he's as clever as he looks I shan't have a bit of trouble with him."

When he heard that, Twinkleheels made up his mind that he would behave his best, no matter what happened.

XVIII

NEW SHOES

The blacksmith patted Twinkleheels and picked up one of his forefeet. Then the blacksmith took a chisel and began to pare away at the horny hoof. Twinkleheels looked over the blacksmith's shoulder. And what he saw gave him a start.

"Great green grass!" he cried to Ebenezer. "Is he going to cut my foot off?"

"No, indeed!" Ebenezer answered. "The blacksmith always pares my feet a bit when he fits new shoes. He may have to trim yours a good deal, because you've never worn shoes and your feet have never been pared."

In spite of his resolve to be on his best behavior, Twinkleheels had been tempted to pull his foot from between the blacksmith's knees. And if Ebenezer hadn't explained that he was in no danger of losing a foot there's no knowing what might have happened. Twinkleheels breathed a sigh of relief; and he made not the slightest trouble for the blacksmith, but waited patiently while his little shoes were being hammered into shape.

When the blacksmith took the first one that he made and held it by a pair of pincers against Twinkleheels' hoof there was a quick sizzling. And a horrid smoke arose. Twinkleheels snorted with fear.

"Easy! Easy, boy!" the blacksmith said to him. And old Ebenezer made haste to explain that there was no danger.

"Won't my foot be burned?" Twinkleheels faltered.

"Not enough to do any harm," said Ebenezer. "You don't feel any pain, do you?"

"No!"

"The shoe's not very hot; and the blacksmith wouldn't hold it against your hoof long enough to harm you," Ebenezer assured him.

Twinkleheels wriggled his nose.

"I must say I don't care for this smoke," he remarked.

"It's no pleasanter for the blacksmith than for you," Ebenezer reminded him. "If I were you I shouldn't complain. Just see what pretty shoes the blacksmith has made for you!"

"They're the nicest I've ever seen," Twinkleheels said. "After I wear them a while and they get shiny on the bottoms, how they will twinkle in the sunlight when I'm trotting along the road!"

In a few minutes more the blacksmith had nailed all of Twinkleheels' four shoes to his feet. It seemed to Twinkleheels that he could never wait until Ebenezer was shod. He was in a great hurry to get out on the street and show his new shoes to the people in the village.

At last Ebenezer too was fitted out with new shoes. As Farmer Green led him out of the shop, and Johnnie Green led Twinkleheels, a queer look came over Twinkleheels' face.

"My goodness!" he cried. "My feet feel very strange."

"What's the matter?" Ebenezer asked him. "Surely your new shoes don't hurt you!"

"No! They don't hurt, exactly," Twinkleheels replied. "But my feet feel terribly heavy. These iron shoes aren't as comfortable to wear as I had expected."

"You'll soon get used to them," said Ebenezer. "In a short time you won't know you're wearing shoes--unless you happen to lose one."

Twinkleheels had supposed that when they reached Farmer Green's place everybody that he met would speak about his new shoes. But nobody paid any attention to them. Everybody seemed to stare at Johnnie Green as soon as he jumped out of the buggy.

"Why are folks looking at Johnnie?" Twinkleheels asked old dog Spot, who had come running up to meet him.

"Haven't you noticed?" Spot cried. "Didn't you _hear_ anything when Johnnie began to walk on the barn floor?"

"No!"

"Well, you're slow to-day," said Spot. "Johnnie Green's wearing some new shoes that his father bought for him in the village. It's queer that you didn't notice them.... Aren't they nice and squeaky?"

XIX

THRASHING TIME

The pair of bays were feeling grumpy. Thrashing time had come. And they knew that they would have to spend long hours in the tread mill out in the field, where the oats were stacked. They grumbled a good deal, as they stood in their stalls.

"I don't see why you object to turning the tread mill for Farmer Green," Twinkleheels said to them. "I'd like to try my hand at it--or my feet, I should say. I should think it would be great fun. Yesterday I saw Johnnie Green and some other boys walking on the tread mill and making it go. They seemed to find it a lark."

"Huh!" said one of the bays. "They'd _hate_ it if they had to walk up hill hour after hour and never get anywhere. The noise of the tread mill and the thrashing machine is most unpleasant."

"It wouldn't be so bad," said his mate, "if Farmer Green would let us eat all we wanted of the oats that we help thrash. But he doesn't give us even an extra measure."

"We'd run away," remarked the bay that had spoken first, "except that running away wouldn't do us any good. All our running would only make the mill turn faster."

"We can't even stand still if we want to," his mate muttered. "There's a bar that crosses the top of the tread mill, right in front of us. Farmer Green ties us to it. There we are! When he unlocks the tread mill we have to start walking or we'd slide down backwards; and unless our halters broke, our necks would get a terrible stretching."

The old horse Ebenezer, who stood between Twinkleheels and the bays and couldn't miss hearing what was said, looked scornfully at the two grumblers.

"Think of the oats Farmer Green gives you every day!" he exclaimed. "I should suppose you'd be glad to earn some of them."

"The trouble is--" said the bay nearest him--"the trouble is, we have to earn not only the oats that we eat, but those that Farmer Green feeds to you and that pony."

"I've helped thrash many a time," Ebenezer declared.

"Well--I dare say you have," the bay admitted. "But what about that pony? I never saw him do any work. I venture to say that he's never done a day's work in his life."

Twinkleheels couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.

"I'd be glad to help with the thrashing," he said. "But what can I do if Farmer Green won't _let_ me?"

The bays talked to each other in an undertone. Then one of them said: "You might refuse to eat any more oats."

Somehow Twinkleheels did not care for that suggestion; and he said as much.

"What's the matter with hay?" the other bay asked him. "If you have plenty of hay you ought to be satisfied."

"No!" Twinkleheels told him. "I can't get along on hay alone. Johnnie Green expects me to be spry and playful. And you know very well that a horse or a pony can't be spirited without plenty of oats."

Once more the bays muttered to each other in a low tone. And at last they told Twinkleheels that he was greedy.

"You don't need any oats," they said. "You have more to eat than we do, all the time."

Twinkleheels was astonished.

"I don't know what you mean," he cried. "Johnnie Green feeds me only oats and hay; and that's no more than you have."

"We don't agree with you," the bays retorted. "You have meal. And you must eat a lot of it, too."

"Never!" Twinkleheels declared. "Why do you say that?"

"You have a mealy nose," they explained. "It always looks as if you'd just eaten out of the meal bin."

XX

A MEALY NOSE

It was true, as the bays had said, that Twinkleheels had a mealy nose. So perhaps it was only natural that they should think he had meal to eat when they didn't. And he hastened to explain matters to them.

"My mealy nose," he said, "doesn't mean that I've been eating meal. My nose happens to be the color of meal. All the brushing in the world wouldn't change it."

The bay pair snorted. It was plain that they didn't believe what Twinkleheels told them.

"You can ask Ebenezer," Twinkleheels advised them. "He'll tell you that what I say is true."

"We don't want to ask him," said the bays. "Ask him yourself."

"Don't be rude to this pony!" the old horse Ebenezer chided them. "If you had spent more of your time off the farm, and seen more horses, you'd know that mealy noses like his are not uncommon. In my younger days, when I went to the county fair every fall, I used to meet a great many horses. And I learned then that mealy noses are by no means rare."

The bays stamped impatiently.

"We don't care to argue about this pony's nose," said the one whose stall was next to Ebenezer's. "His nose is a small matter. We do insist, however, that he help with the thrashing. Maybe you've done your share of the thrashing in times past. But this pony's a loafer. We want to see him work."

Poor Twinkleheels felt most unhappy. "Haven't I said I'd like to walk on the tread mill?" Twinkleheels cried. "But Farmer Green would never allow me to."

"We don't care to argue with you," said the bay who stood beside Ebenezer. "You are altogether too small for us to bother with any longer."

"If I'm so small, then I shouldn't think what few oats I eat would annoy you," said Twinkleheels.

"Oh, your appetite's big enough!" cried the other bay. "You're always eating something. Yesterday we saw Johnnie Green ride you up to the kitchen window where Mrs. Green was peeling potatoes. And she gave you a potato. And you ate it."

"People are always feeding you," echoed the bay's bay mate.

"How can I help that?" Twinkleheels asked them.

"You could decline with thanks," they explained.

Twinkleheels shook his head.

"It wouldn't be polite," he said. "Besides, I like potatoes and apples and carrots even more than oats and hay."

Just then Farmer Green came into the barn and backed the bays out of their stalls. They both sighed.

"We're in for it now," they told Ebenezer. "He's going to take us out and make us walk on the tread mill."

A little later Johnnie Green saddled Twinkleheels and followed his father and the bays to the field where the thrashing machine stood beside several stacks of oats.

Before Johnnie and Twinkleheels arrived on the scene a great clatter warned them that thrashing had already begun. Hurrying up, they found the bays toiling up the endless path that slid always downward beneath them.

The bays were a glum appearing pair. Twinkleheels tried to speak to them, but the thrashing machine made such a racket that they couldn't hear him whinny; and he couldn't catch their eyes. They wouldn't look at him.

A stream of oats was pouring out of the grain spout. Johnnie Green dismounted. Picking up a handful of the newly thrashed oats, he fed Twinkleheels.

The bays looked at Twinkleheels then. They looked at him with envy.

"That pony has begun to eat up the new oats already," said one of the bays to his mate. "I hoped he'd have the decency to decline them when Johnnie Green offered him a taste."

"Not he!" groaned his mate. "That pony even hinted to Johnnie Green that he'd like some oats. I saw him hint, out of the corner of my eye."

"Ah!" cried the other bay. "Twinkleheels not only has a mealy nose. He's mealy-mouthed as well!"

XXI

JUMPING MUD PUDDLES

Johnnie Green had often ridden bareback. Lacking a pony, before Twinkleheels came to the farm to live, he had ridden the old horse Ebenezer back and forth between the barn and the pasture, guiding him by his halter rope.

Ebenezer was a steady old fellow. He never jumped nor shied. He preferred walking to any other gait. Without a whip Johnnie Green had hard work to make him trot. It took a great deal of drumming against his ribs by Johnnie Green's heels to induce him to hurry his steps.

Twinkleheels was different from Ebenezer. He was frisky. Yet Johnnie sometimes put a bridle on him and rode him without a saddle. Especially after the circus men came along and pasted posters on the barn Johnnie Green liked to ride bareback. He had a notion that some day he would learn to ride standing on Twinkleheels' back.

Farmer Green, however, did not approve of that plan. When Johnnie mentioned it to him he said "No!" in a most decided fashion. "That pony would be sure to throw you," he told Johnnie.

"I could try standing on Ebenezer first," Johnnie suggested. "His back is broader. And he certainly wouldn't object."

Somehow his father didn't care for that scheme either. "We don't want any broken legs around here," he declared, "nor necks, either. Broken necks are very slow to mend."

So Johnnie Green had to give up his plan, for the time being. He made up his mind, however, that when he was grown up he would learn to ride standing up--and turn somersaults in the air off a horse's back. But now he knew that he must content himself with less risky sports.

Something happened one day that caused Johnnie to admit to himself the wisdom of his father's advice. He was riding Twinkleheels along the road, bareback, after a heavy rain. And the first thing that Johnnie knew he was sitting almost on Twinkleheels' tail. Instead of splashing through a big mud puddle, Twinkleheels had taken it into his head to jump it.

His leap took his rider unawares. Johnnie had slipped to the rear as if Twinkleheels' back had been greased. And if he hadn't clutched the bridle reins he would have dropped off into the very middle of the puddle.

After that Johnnie kept a sharp eye out for mud puddles. When he knew that Twinkleheels was going to jump one he had no trouble in sticking to his seat.

Soon Johnnie decided once more that it would be easy to learn to be a circus rider. Certainly it was no trick at all to sit on Twinkleheels' bare back so long as he knew what the pony was going to do. It was as easy as walking a tight rope. And that was a feat that Johnnie Green had already mastered.

He only broke a collar bone learning that.

XXII

THE CIRCUS RIDER

The next afternoon, when Johnnie went to the pasture with old dog Spot to drive the cows home, he climbed a tree--not that climbing a tree helped in any way to get the cows into the lane!

Just for the moment Johnnie was a sailor--in his mind's eye. He went up aloft to watch for a desert island, where pirate gold was hidden. And circus riding would never have entered his head had not Twinkleheels, who had been grazing in the pasture, come and stood under the tree into which his young master had climbed.

When Johnnie came down out of the rigging of his ship--or when he slipped down through the branches of the tree--Twinkleheels stood just beneath the lowest limb. Johnnie Green swung off it, hung by his arms for a moment, and then dropped astride of Twinkleheels' back.

It may have been because old dog Spot let out a delighted yelp at that instant. It may have been that Twinkleheels hadn't expected Johnnie to mount him in that unusual fashion. Anyhow, he gave one jump and then stood up on his hind legs.

Johnnie Green didn't even have time to grab at Twinkleheels' mane. He slid off Twinkleheels' back and struck the ground with a dull thud.

For a few moments he lay there, unable to breathe. Then he struggled to his feet and ran round and round in a circle, doubled up and groaning. There was a strange, strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He feared he would never be able to get his breath again.

Twinkleheels paid no heed to him, but nibbled at choice clumps of grass and clover quite as if nothing had happened.

Old dog Spot, however, seemed to think that Johnnie Green was having a good time and enjoying himself thoroughly. Spot capered about him, barking furiously.

"Don't!" Johnnie managed to gasp. "Don't laugh, Spot! I'm terribly hurt. I don't believe I'll ever get well again."

But in a few moments he succeeded in drawing a long, deep breath. He lay down upon the ground then and drew another and another and another. Already he began to feel better. And soon he stood up gingerly and felt of himself all over. To his great surprise, nothing seemed to be broken except his suspenders.

Old Spot came up and put his paws against Johnnie and barked.

"Let's have a good romp!" he begged. Or at least that was what Johnnie understood him to say.

"No, Spot!" Johnnie answered. "Not now! I don't feel like running. You wouldn't, either, if you had just had the breath knocked out of you."

Then Johnnie went soberly about the business of driving the cows home. At last he got them all started down the lane, put up the bars, and followed them.

As he reached the barn Johnnie looked up curiously at the pictures of circus riders in pink tights gayly disporting themselves on the backs of dappled gray horses.

"Humph!" he muttered. "I don't believe that's half the fun I always thought it was."

XXIII

GOING FISHING

Twinkleheels never had any great liking for whips. Johnnie Green kept a long one in the socket beside the dashboard of his little red-wheeled buggy. And he had a shorter one that he carried in his hand when he rode on Twinkleheels' back.

Whenever Twinkleheels drew the buggy he seemed always to keep at least one eye on the snapper of the whip, for Twinkleheels could see behind him easily.

He rarely needed urging. On the contrary, Johnnie Green often had to pull quite hard upon the reins to keep him from going too fast. And when a lazy mood came over Twinkleheels the merest shake of the whip in its socket was enough to send him forward with a jump.

When Johnnie rode him he never had to give Twinkleheels a cut with his riding whip. Just a touch of it was all that was needed--if Twinkleheels happened to be a bit headstrong and didn't quite agree with Johnnie as to where they should go.