He took a good survey of the stables and barracks, peeped into all the warehouses that were open, watched the teamsters, who were busily engaged in hauling the winter’s supply of wood into the fort, and finally, growing tired of passing the time in this way, he went back to the stable to take another look at his pony.
As he walked up and down the floor behind the stall in which the animal was hitched, he incautiously approached a little too near his heels. In an instant the pony’s little ears were thrown back close to his head, and his hind feet flew up into the air with tremendous force, but Oscar was just out of reach.
Fortunately he saw the motion of the pony’s ears, and, suspecting mischief, he jumped aside just in time to avoid the blow, which, had it been fairly planted, would have ended his career as a taxidermist then and there.
“That’s your game, is it!” exclaimed Oscar, picking up the hat that had fallen from his head. “Well, if you want a fight we may as well have it out now as any time.”
So saying, Oscar took his bridle down from its place on the peg and walked into the stall.
The pony must have been astonished at his boldness, and perhaps he was cured by it. At any rate he offered but little resistance as Oscar forced the bit into his mouth and strapped the saddle on his back.
He raised no objections either when the boy, having led him out of the stable, prepared to mount him; but he did not wait for him to be fairly seated in the saddle.
No sooner had Oscar placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself clear of the ground than the pony broke into a gallop and carried him swiftly out of the gate.
Oscar could ride almost as well as he could shoot. He was quite at home in the saddle, and it seemed like old times to find himself moving over the ground with a speed almost equal to that of a bird on the wing, and to hear the wind whistling about his ears.
The pony was perfectly willing to go and the boy was perfectly willing to let him.