"You naughty pony," she cried, "you must do what I tell you," and she tugged violently at his mouth, and gave him another sharp blow with her whip. This was more than the pony could bear; and before his little mistress knew where she was, he pricked up his ears, and with an angry toss of his head galloped away down the road as fast as he could.
"Stop, Miss Bunny, for goodness sake stop," shouted the groom; "you must not go so fast; come back here at once."
FRANCIS SAVES BUNNY.
"I can't stop—I can't!" shrieked the little girl in a voice of terror. "Oh! he's running away—he's running away;" and, completely overcome with fright, poor Bunny dropped her reins, and, catching hold of the pony's mane, held on to him with all her strength.
"What a fool I was to let her go!" cried the groom; "what on earth will my master say to me? Goodness, the silly child has let go her reins; she'll be off—she'll be off;" and, spurring up his horse, he rode after the runaway, hoping to overtake him and put a stop to his mad race.
But the noise of the horses as they clattered down the road after him seemed only to excite Master Frisk, and on he went faster than ever.
As the pony reached the end of the drive, and poor little Bunny had become so weak and faint from terror that she was in great danger of being thrown to the ground, a young lad of about sixteen jumped up from the grass where he had been seated, and, dashing forward, seized Frisk by the head and brought him to a sudden stand-still.
"Poor little girl," said the boy kindly, as he lifted Bunny from her saddle and laid her gently on the grass. "What a fright you have had! How did this beggar come to run away? He looks quiet enough."