“That’s a good idea,” declared Tommy. “But what shall we use to tie the horse to a post? Have you a piece of string in your pocket, Johnny?”
“Yes,” answered his brother, “I have.”
“Oh, you silly boys!” exclaimed Mary. “They don’t tie horses with string. They use a leather strap. There must be one in the wagon. You boys climb in and look.”
So Tommy and Johnny climbed up on the wagon step, and crawled back over the seat, for the horse was kind and gentle, and stood very still, looking up at the sky now and then, to see if it would rain, I guess.
“I can’t find any strap!” called Johnny, after a while.
“Nor I,” added Tommy. “There are a lot of groceries in the wagon, but no strap.”
“Oh, I suppose I’ll have to look myself,” said Mary. So she climbed up into the wagon where her brothers were. She looked in among the boxes and baskets, and she had just found the strap, which was in among some oranges, when, all at once, a queer thing happened. The horse suddenly started to walk away again, pulling the wagon after him, and the Trippertrot children were in the wagon. So, of course, the horse pulled them, too.
“Oh!” cried Mary. “We’re having a ride!”
“That’s fine!” exclaimed Johnny.
“Oh, but we mustn’t!” shouted Tommy. “The horse is taking us away from home, and mamma told us not to go! We must stop him!”