"Oh, dear! He won't turn around, or do anything else, till that band stops," declared Sammy. "This is what Neale meant. He thinks he's in the circus again and that he must march to the music."
"I do declare," murmured Dot, "this pony of ours is just as hard to make stop as Mrs. Heard's Jonas-pony is hard to make go. I wish it was Jonas we had here now, don't you, Tess? He'd be glad to stop."
"And Ruthie told us to come right back 'cause there's going to be ice-cream, and we can scrape the paddles," moaned Tess. "Dear me! we'll be a nawful long time going out to this fun'ral!"
The situation was becoming tragic. The thought of the pleasures of scraping the ice-cream freezer paddles was enough to make Sammy turn to desperate invention for release.
"Here, Tess," he commanded. "You hold these reins and don't you let 'em get under Scalawag's heels."
"Oh, Sammy! what are you going to do?" queried Tess excitedly, but obeying him faithfully.
"I'm going to slide out behind and run around and stop him."
"Oh, Sammy! You can't!" Dot cried. "He'll just walk right over you. See him!"
Everybody along the street was laughing now. It really was a funny sight to see that solemnly stepping pony right behind the line of carriages. Sammy would not be deterred. He scrambled out of the phaeton and ran around to Scalawag's head.
"Whoa! Stop, you old nuisance!" ejaculated the boy, seizing the bridle and trying to halt the pony.