"His mother told him he might take it. She has taken it from me."
"She's an old—"
"Don't call names, Sam. I'll tell you more about it another time."
Meanwhile Ben had seen the boys coming from the academy. Among others he recognized John and Sam, and his eyes flashed with anticipated triumph. Hitherto he had been content to let the horse go on at his own rate, but now he thought it was time to make a display. He thought it would annoy John to have him dash by at gallant speed, while he, the rightful owner, was obliged to stand out of the path, unable to interfere. He therefore brought the whip down with considerable emphasis upon Prince's side. Unfortunately he had not foreseen the consequences of the blow. Prince took the bit between his teeth, and darted forward with reckless speed, while Ben, seeing his mistake too late, pale and terrified, threw his arms around the horse's neck, and tried to keep his seat.
John started forward, also in alarm, for though he had no reason to like Ben, he did not want him to be hurt, and called "Prince!"
The horse recognized his master's voice, and stopped suddenly,—so suddenly that Ben was thrown off, and landed in a puddle of standing water in a gully by the side of the road. Prince stopped quietly for his master to come up.
"Are you hurt, Ben?" asked John, hurrying up.
Ben rose from the puddle in sorry plight. He was only a little bruised, but he was drenched from head to foot with dirty water, and patches of yellow mud adhered to his clothes.
"You did this!" he said, furiously to John.