“Ah, I’ll show you!” said Tom, taking the collar with its hames and traces attached, and going up toward the donkey, while Dick stood back, laughing.
“Take care, Tom; mind he don’t bite!”
“He can’t bite with his hind-legs, can he?” replied Tom. “I’ll mind. Now, then, old fellow, turn round; I won’t hurt you.”
Solomon raised his tail to a horizontal position and held it out stiffly.
“Don’t be a stupid,” cried Tom; “I want your head, not your tail.”
Dick burst into a roar of laughter, but Tom was not going to be beaten.
“You leave off laughing,” he said, “and go farther back with that stick. That’s right. Now, then, old boy, come on; turn round then.”
Whack!
Poor Tom went backwards and came down a couple of yards away in a sitting position, with the collar in his lap and an astonished look in his countenance.
“Oh, I am sorry, Tom!” cried Dick, running up. “You, Solomon, I’ll half kill you. Are you hurt, Tom?”