The mare was rather a frisky creature, and both boys had all they could do to make her walk along as they wished.
“She’s been in the sthable too long,” explained Andy Dugan. “She wants a run av a couple o’ miles to take the dancin’ out av her heels.”
“Well, she mustn’t run now,” said Harry, who had no desire to reach the old barn before the others could come up.
The wind was gradually going down, so journeying along the road was more agreeable than it had been. When they passed the little cottage they saw the old man peeping from behind a window shutter at them.
“He’s a quare sthick, so he is,” said Andy Dugan. “But, as he is afther lavin’ us alone, we lave him alone.”
The party advanced upon the barn boldly and when they were within a hundred yards of the structure, Joe and Harry urged the mare ahead. Up flew the rear hoofs of the steed and away she went pell-mell along the road.
“Whoa! whoa!” roared Joe. “Whoa, I say!”
But the mare did not intend to whoa, and reaching the barn, she flew by like a meteor, much to the combined chagrin of the riders. Joe was in front, holding the reins, and Harry in the rear, with his arms about his brother’s waist. Both kept bouncing up and down like twin rubber balls.
“Do stop her, Joe!”
“Whoa!” repeated Joe. “Whoa! Confound the mare, she won’t listen to me!”