“Poor old Dick has taken a fancy to him,” he said to himself; “and the other will do just as well for me.”
“Let Dick choose first,” he said aloud.
“Very well,” said Mr Rogers. “Now then, Dick, which is it to be? though you can’t be wrong, my boy, for there is not a pin to choose between them, and they are brothers.”
“Should you mind if I chose first, Jack?” asked Dick.
“Not a bit,” said Jack, stoutly, though his feeling of disappointment was keen, for he felt now that he would dearly love to have the white-legged cob.
You may guess then his delight when Dick declared for the black-legged one.
As soon as he heard the decision Jack had his arm over the white-legged cob’s neck and had given it a hug, the horse looking at him with its great soft eyes, and uttering a low snort.
“Up with you then, my boys, and have a canter.”
“Without a saddle, father?” said Dick, nervously.
Jack was already up.