“Where I could. You can’t pick your place when you try to hit Solomon. You must look sharp or you’ll get it first.”
“But he wouldn’t be so disagreeable if you were kind to him,” said Tom. “Poor old Sol, then!”
There was a sharp twist of the donkey’s neck, and, quick as lightning, the fierce little animal made a grab at Tom. Fortunately he missed his shoulder, but he got tightly hold of the sleeve of his coat, and held on till Dick gave him a furious kick, when he let go.
“Kick him again, Dick!” cried Tom, who looked very pale. “Ugh! the treacherous beast!”
“It’s his nature,” said Dick coolly, as he resumed his position and leaned over the donkey’s back. “He always was so from a foal! Father’s always kind to dumb beasts, and feeds them well, and nurses them when they’re ill; but he often gives Solomon a crack. I say, look at old Thorpeley; he’s watching you now.”
“He isn’t; he’s looking all round. I say, Dick, you can’t tell where he is looking. I wonder what makes any one squint like that!”
“Had one of his eyes knocked out and put in again upside down,” said Dick.
“Get out!” cried Tom.
“Haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh!” cried Solomon.
“There, he’s laughing at you. I say, Dick, do you think he really does watch us?”