But Jouncer had not jogged along on the turnpike road more than a quarter of a mile before the sound of rapidly-approaching wheels was heard behind him.
“Hello, Phil!” cried the well-known voice of Chap Webster. “I didn’t believe it at first, but it’s really true. Why, you are on Jouncer!”
Phil turned, and saw behind him a spring-wagon, drawn by a small gray horse, and driven by a short and very stout boy, by whose side sat Chap Webster.
“Hello, Phœnix!” said Phil. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to town after father,” said the stout boy.
This youth’s name was Phineas Poole, but his boy friends called him Phœnix, and by that name he was generally known.
“But what are you doing on Jouncer?” cried Chap.
“Well,” said Phil, with an air as if the matter was of slight importance, “I thought I’d ride him into town to-day. He ought to be exercised, you know.”
“Well, why don’t you exercise him?” said Chap, very earnestly. “If I was on his back I wouldn’t be crawlin’ along like that. If you ever want to find out whether he has got Arabian blood in him or not, now’s your chance.”
“What would you do?” asked Phil.