“Do!” cried Chap. “Why, I’d put him across that ditch, and over that fence, and I’d clip it in a bee-line straight across the fields to town!”
“Clip both your legs off,” said Phil, “and break his neck! I’m not going to make such a fool of myself the first day I ride my uncle’s horse.”
“Upon my word!” said Chap, in a desponding voice; then addressing himself to Phœnix, he said, “I do believe that Phil Berkeley is nothing but a humdrumist, after all! And to think of his opportunities! Come, Phœnix, touch up Selim, and let’s get along to town. It will be time enough to go at this rate when we take to riding cows.”
Selim was a resolute little horse, who, when he was touched up, generally did his best, and so, the moment he felt the whip, he put his head down as low as he could get it, and began to work his sturdy legs with as much rapidity as if a heavy head of steam had just been let on to the engine which moved his machinery, and the spring-wagon passed rapidly by Jouncer and went rattling ahead.
Now, Phil was a boy of spirit, and did not like this treatment at all. Without a moment’s hesitation he jammed his heels into Jouncer’s sides and urged him forward. Jouncer, too, was a horse of spirit, and never fancied being passed on the road, often giving his master considerable trouble on such occasions, and it is likely, therefore, even if he had not felt Philip’s heels, that he would have made haste to overtake that spring-wagon, and now, having a double motive, he struck into a gallop, and soon caught up with the vehicle.
“Hi!” shouted Chap, in great excitement, turning around, and half standing up as he spoke; “don’t let him pass us! Whip up Selim! That Jouncer can’t beat us into town! Good-by, Phil!”
When Selim felt the whip again—and it came down a good deal harder this time—he put on more steam, and as he had been trotting as fast as he could before, he now began to run. After him came Jouncer, clattering furiously on the hard turnpike.
“It is ridiculous,” thought Phil, “for a little horse like that, with a wagon and two boys behind him, to keep ahead of Jouncer and me,” and with his heels and a little riding-cane he carried, he began to urge his horse to greater speed.
Jouncer’s blood, whatever kind it was, now began to boil, and he soon needed no urging. Turning a little to the left, he galloped so vigorously that it seemed that he must quickly pass the wagon. But Selim was a stanch little horse, and could run at a high speed,—for a short distance, at any rate,—and the wagon behind him seemed to be a matter he did not consider at all. He clattered bravely on, and still kept the lead, Chap shouting wildly, and Phœnix bringing down the whip every now and then with a resolute whang.
A loaded hay-wagon was now seen ahead, and it was with some difficulty that the stout Phœnix turned his horse so as to pass on one side without a collision.