"Whoa, Job! Whoa, boy!" Mrs. Adams was calling in vain, while Jean exclaimed spitefully,—
"Mean old thing! I'll never be sorry for him again! I didn't lean back all the time we were gone, but just sat on the very front edge of the seat and tried to make myself as light as I could."
Then followed an exciting chase, for Job appeared to have regained all the agility of his far-off ancestors that roamed the plains at their own sweet will. Such sudden wheelings! Such wild leaps! Such frantic kicks! He refused to be coaxed; he cocked up his ears in derisive scorn when they scolded him and requested him to whoa. He had no intention of whoaing. He recognized from afar that a snare lay hidden somewhere in the measure of oats which Mrs. Adams held out before him, and he drew back his lips in a contemptuous smile, as he capered away to the remotest corner of the grounds. The pursuit lasted for an hour, and at the end of that time, Job appeared to be far fresher than his pursuers, fresher even than he had been at the start.
It was plain that nothing was to be gained in this way, so Mrs.
Adams and the girls retired to the house to take counsel, leaving
Alan to drive Job to the stable, and come back to dinner with the
others.
"I am tired, if he isn't," sighed Mrs. Adams, dropping into a chair by the window overlooking the lawn.
"Has he ever done it before?" asked Florence sympathetically.
"Never with me; but he used to get away from John, when he was younger. Now he has started, I am afraid he will repeat the experiment, he has had such a good time to-day. It just makes me want to whip him!" And Mrs. Adams glared out at the unconscious Job who was quietly cropping a tuft of green grass.
It may be that the stolen fruit was not so sweet to his tongue as Job had expected, or his conscience may at length have begun to act once more. He slowly raised his head and gazed longingly up and down the street, as if yearning to try a wider field for his gymnastics. Then apparently his sense of duty carried the day for, turning reluctantly, he plodded away to the open stable door, and quietly marched into his accustomed place.
"Run, Polly, quick! Run and fasten the door!" her mother exclaimed, as she hurried away to tie up the prodigal, to prevent any fresh wanderings.
When the doctor came home to dinner and heard the story, he was merciless in his teasing.