"HE ENTANGLED BOTH HER HAT AND HAIR IN A WILD-ROSE BUSH"
It was not a very hard blow, but Teddie seemed to resent it extremely. He was a donkey with a character, and instead of galloping on, as Sylvia had hoped, he ran straight into the hedge, where he entangled both her hat and hair so successfully in a wild-rose bush, that she had to scream to be released.
"Perhaps you hit him on the wrong side," she suggested, when the donkey's nose had been pulled out into the lane again.
"Then we'll try the other," said Artie, who, having dropped his stick, administered a sounding smack on the thick, shaggy coat.
Teddie, however, evidently did not intend to be coerced; he made at once for the opposite hedge, and Sylvia found herself in equal difficulties with a long spray of bramble.
"He's the most obstinate little beast I've ever known," said Linda. "We'll try him just once more. Oswald, you hold his head exactly in the middle of the road, then Artie and I'll each give him a thump at the same second, one on each side. Are you ready, Artie! One, two, three, off!"
This time it was really off and away. The donkey took to his heels, and cantered along the road in fine style, with the boys and Linda racing after him, encouraging Sylvia, who was laughing and trying to hold on her hat and to keep the lunch from falling, while Scamp and Bute barked themselves hoarse. The enamelled mugs bumped against poor Teddie's sides, and alarmed him so much that perhaps he thought somebody was switching him in front, and intended him to run backwards, for he stopped quite suddenly, and lowered his head, with the result that Sylvia shot over his neck, and found herself sitting in the dusty road.
"It serves me right!" she laughed. "No, I'm not hurt in the least. It's too bad to make him trot when he's carrying both me and the lunch. I'll walk now, and give him a rest, and then it will be Linda's turn to ride him."