"Wh-wh-whoa! Wh-wh-whoa!" Jolted as he was, he couldn't get a whole word out of his mouth at a time. He could only jerk a word out piecemeal.
If the fish pole hadn't at last snapped off short, leaving only the butt of it in Johnnie's hand, there's no telling when Twinkleheels would have stopped.
Finding himself with only a bit of the pole left in his hand, Johnnie gave it a fling, slipped an arm through the handle of his lunch basket, and set to pulling mightily on the bridle reins.
"There!" said Twinkleheels. "There goes that whip. I'm glad I broke it. Now I'll let Johnnie pull me down to a walk—but not too quickly."
With Johnnie Green tugging steadily, Twinkleheels changed from a run to a canter, from a canter to a trot, from a trot to a walk; and finally stood still.
Then Johnnie turned him around and rode slowly back to the barn. He jumped down, unbuckled the girth, and drew off Twinkleheels' saddle.
"What's the matter?" his father asked him. "You haven't given up going fishing—have you?"
"No!" Johnnie answered. "I'm going to harness Twinkleheels to the buggy. And I'll cut a pole at the creek."
His father said nothing more. But he smiled a little to himself when Johnnie wasn't looking his way.
"Boys will be boys," Farmer Green remarked after Johnnie had gone.