They wished to know what it was Neale had whispered into the fat brown pony’s ears when the ex-circus lad had cured the stubborn creature’s balkiness—for the time being, at least.
“I’ve always thought, Neale O’Neil, that you were better than most boys,” Tess Kenway said, seriously, the subject having come up again on this morning’s run.
“And he never was so stingy before,” wailed Dot.
“If he’d only tell me what he said to Jonas,” Tess went on, “we could say it to Billy Bumps when he balks. And you know he does balk sometimes—most awfully.”
“Oh, Tess! maybe the same words that started the pony wouldn’t start a goat. Would they, Neale?” asked the smallest Corner House girl.
But Neale only grinned, and refused to be drawn like a badger. The little girls could not get him to talk at all about the mystery.
And right here, while they were miles from any village—even while they were completely out of sight of any dwelling—a most astonishing thing happened.
Without previous warning the engine began to cough, and the car ran more slowly.
“Now what’s happened, Neale?” inquired Mrs. Heard, rather nervously.
Neale made no reply at all for a minute. He tried first one lever and then another, ran slow, tried to speed up, and then found that in spite of everything he did, the engine was going dead.