“I didn’t suppose anybody would object to letting me have him to-day, and that is why I took him. I see you are afraid of being beaten. What pony did you propose to let me have?”
“Any one but that one. I did think of riding Coffin Head, but you may have him.”
“Coffin Head! You must think I’m a fool! Why, that old cob is played out, and I’d be a perfect guy on him. You can’t work that on me, Ken.”
St. Ives was angry. He showed it in his face and voice.
“I don’t care what you ride! You can have anything but Liner.”
“And I’ll have Liner!” flung back Fenton, defiantly. “I’ve got him, and I’m going to keep him. What can you do about it? We’ll show you chaps up in great shape.”
Then he started the pony up, and rode away toward the green.
St. Ives seemed about to follow him.
“I’ll make him give that pony up!” he grated. “He has no right to take Liner! If he doesn’t want to play, let him get out.”
“I wouldn’t have any trouble with him about it,” said Frank. “If you do, he’ll make a big fuss about our being scared. Let’s look at the other ponies first, anyway.”