Seizing a shovel, Johnnie's father slowly dug his way to Twinkleheels, who had stopped struggling and was waiting glumly for help. In a few minutes more he had scrambled out of the ditch and gained the road again, through the path that Farmer Green made for him.
"Now," said Farmer Green, "don't leave the broken road. This pony's too small to handle himself in these drifts. I wouldn't try to put even a full-sized horse through them. It takes oxen in such going. They're slow; but they're strong and sure-footed, too. And they can go where horses couldn't do anything but flounder and probably cut themselves with their own feet. That's why we always use Bright and Broad to gather sap in the sugar-bush."
"I'll put Twinkleheels in the barn again," said Johnnie. "Then I'll come back on foot and help you."
So he rode Twinkleheels back and hitched him in his stall once more.
Old Ebenezer woke up as Twinkleheels pattered over the barn floor.
"What!" cried the old horse. "Back again so soon? Did you race with Bright and Broad?"
"The snow's too deep for a good race," Twinkleheels told him.
"Bright and Broad don't mind the snow much, do they?" Ebenezer asked.
"Oh, no!" Twinkleheels answered. "They're getting on slowly, up the road. They take their time, of course."
"Couldn't they beat you to the crossroads if you raced with them to-day?"