Oh, no, Johnny would tell nothing. Great sport this race was going to be for him, because of course he would ride the swiftest of all, being the most accustomed to riding. The boys devoted several days to practising for the great race which was to come off on Saturday.
The weather that day was damp and close, and the roads were very muddy because it had rained hard through the night; but all the boys were assembled at the big pine tree when Johnny Blossom rode up. They cast lots to determine the order in which they should ride. Otto had a notebook and pencil and wrote the names. Johnny Blossom’s, to his disgust, came last of all.
Otto rode first. He snapped the whip and galloped off, making the mud fly in every direction. There was much disputing among the waiting boys as to whether he started at three or four seconds after eleven.
Why! There he was back again. “Six minutes and eight seconds going,” he shouted, “and eight minutes and one second coming back!”
The others went each in turn, all making fine speed. Johnny Blossom gave Bob two lumps of sugar after every trip.
Finally, it was Johnny’s turn. “You are really too little to ride properly,” said Otto. “We’ll allow you double time.”
Too little! Were they crazy? Indeed he wouldn’t have double time. He would ride better than any of them, he would. Who was it owned the horse? He would show them who could ride best; and he struck Bob sharply. “Away with you, Bob! Faster! Faster!”
But Bob was so queer today. And he breathed so strangely. He had been breathing something like that these last few days, but today it was worse, and he didn’t hurry even when Johnny struck him again with the whip. Finally he almost stopped, and breathed more queerly than ever.
Oh, dear! Johnny was in despair. The boys had all been much quicker than he, and they would just say that he was too little and must be allowed double time.
“Hurry up, Bob, I tell you!”