It was a proud day for Cricket when the saddle was first put on the back of her very own pony, and Mike mounted her. Not that she needed to be mounted, as a rule, for she was quite equal to grasping the shaggy mane, and scrambling up into the saddle herself, but this was such an important occasion that ordinary methods would not do.
Mike was quite as proud as Cricket was, of the black pony. To think that but for his kindness and devoted care poor little Mopsie’s bones would now be whitening in some field! And not only that, but to think his favourite Miss “Scricket” now had a pony of her own, all owing to him. He had polished up Mopsie to the last degree, and now that the pony had its pretty little saddle on, just like Charcoal’s, the two did not make a bad pair.
All the younger fry gathered to watch this first mounting. Dr. Ward was there, also, for he did not know whether Mopsie had ever carried a little girl before, and he wanted to make sure that everything was right. The children cantered up and down the avenue to the gates and back, and even Charcoal seemed to think that two ponies were much more fun than one. Mopsie was a bit stiff at first, but he soon grew more limber, and at last papa said that they might ride down the road, outside the gates.
“Hurrah! get up, Mopsie!” cried Cricket, bringing the whip lightly down on Mopsie’s black flank, and tightening the rein a little. To her great surprise Mopsie began to rise on his hind legs, till his front feet waved in the air, and then he gravely stalked away on the two legs, with Cricket wildly clutching his mane.
“Get down, Mopsie,” she shrieked. “Why, I’m falling off. Get down this minute.”
Papa and Mike both ran to the rescue, but knowing little Mopsie seemed to feel that, after all, this was not what was expected of him, so he slowly lowered his front feet, and stood quietly waiting for further orders.
Mike was full of apologies for his pet.
“It’s the way ye drew the line, Miss Scricket,” he said, anxiously. “It’s only wan of thim cirkis-tricks. See! he don’t mane no harm, at all, at all.”
“Oh, it’s lots of fun,” cried Cricket, excitedly, when she discovered that Mopsie evidently thought he was only doing his duty. “I wish I could make him do it again.” But just what pull of the rein was necessary to tell him to rear she could not find out, though she jerked the patient pony’s head this way and that.
“But I’m afraid to have you go out of the yard, my little girl,” said papa, “for Mopsie might rear like that any time and throw you.”