"I'll see that he learns something in the pasture to-morrow," Twinkleheels promised himself. "I'll get him to race with me—if he can stay awake long enough. And I'll show him such a burst of speed as he's never seen in all his twenty years."
IX
THE RACE
When Johnnie Green turned Twinkleheels and the old horse Ebenezer into the pasture, the first thing they did was to drop down on the grass and enjoy a good roll.
There was a vast difference in their actions. Twinkleheels was as spry as a squirrel. He rolled from one side to the other and back again, jumped up and shook himself like old dog Spot, almost before Ebenezer had picked out a nice, smooth place to roll on.
Ebenezer bent his legs beneath him in a gingerly fashion and sank with something like a sigh upon the green, grassy 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."