“No, don’t coax him, Phil,” said his brother; “he don’t deserve it. Only let me get at him; that’s all.”
For a few moments, however, there did not seem to be a chance of getting “at him, that’s all;” for the donkey stood as stolidly as ever, till the pony, as he scampered up the field, gave a triumphant neigh, which roused Neddy, for he gave a frisk and a splash in the water, and then rushed out; but he did not escape quite scot-free, for Harry managed to get one crack at him with the thick end of the whip just as he galloped up the field.
Harry’s manoeuvre proved successful, for they had now only to follow the donkey up as he went straight into the stable, from whence he was soon dragged out in triumph, saddled and bridled, and with Philip mounted.
“Now, then,” shouted Harry to his brother, as soon as they returned to the field, “down to the bottom and back, and then it’s Fred’s turn.”
But Neddy would not trot; it was of no use to kick him with your heels, he would only walk, so Philip called out for a stick, and then when Neddy saw the stick coming he would not walk but would trot, so that Harry could hardly catch up to him; but when he did, and handed the weapon to his brother, the donkey no sooner felt the first touch than down went his head and up went his heels, and off went Philip on to his back in the grass.
Neddy would then have started off again, but Harry was too quick for him, and soon held the rein for his brother to remount.
“He’s too fresh,” said Harry. “Never mind; jump up, Phil, and we’ll soon take a little of his nonsense out of him.”
So away Philip trotted down to the bottom and back again, and then Fred had a turn and stuck on capitally, only when he wanted to turn to the left and come up the field again, Neddy would turn to the right and go the other way—an arrangement Fred was obliged to submit to from the fact of his whole attention being required to sit on tight, without guiding his steed.
At last Harry’s turn came, and it was some time before he could manage to mount, for Neddy was very shy of the rough hawthorn stick the lad held; and so he kept backing and pirouetting until Philip went on the opposite side with his stick, when the fidgety little scamp suffered himself to be mounted.
“Crack,” went the stick, and up went Neddy’s heels. “Crack—crack—crack,” went the stick again, and up went Neddy’s heels four, five, six times over. But the donkey had this time met with his match, and, in spite of his kicking and shuffling, Harry sat him like a hero. ’Tis true that he was bumped all sorts of ways—right and left—on to the donkey’s neck—on to his crupper, and was several times nearly off, but never quite; so that at last Neddy gave up in despair, submitted to his thrashing, and then cantered down the field and back, and afterwards allowed himself, with a very good grace, to be ridden about as long as his masters liked; for they had really proved themselves the masters that day in more senses than one.