Luck and Pluck; or, John Oakley's Inheritance

by Jr. Horatio Alger

"Yes, Mike, it'll be hard to part with him." And John's lips quivered as he looked with affection at the noble horse, to which he had become much attached. Besides, it was his father's gift, and as such had an additional value for him, as, owing to his disinheritance, he had nothing else of value by which he could remember the parent whose loss he was made to feel more and more, as his stepmother's injustice and harsh treatment, and Ben's meanness and hostility served daily to increase. It almost seemed to him as if Prince was the only friend he had left, and that he must be parted even from him.

Meanwhile Ben was changing his clothes in his room. The adventure which had just happened to him did not make him feel very pleasant. In the first place, it is rather disagreeable to be thrown violently into a puddle of dirty water, and Ben might be excused for not liking that. Ben's pride was touched, since it had been demonstrated in the most public manner that he could not manage Prince, while it was well known that John could. Ben knew boys well enough to feel sure that he would be reminded from time to time of his adventure, and he did not like to be laughed at. Why was it that John always seemed to get the better of him? He went out expressly to triumph over John in presence of his schoolmates, and this had been the humiliating result.

"Why was I such a fool as to use the whip?" thought Ben, vexed with himself. "If it had not been for that, it would have been all right."

But he had used the whip, and it was all wrong. As to using the horse any more, he did not care to do it. To tell the truth, Ben, who, as we know, was not very courageous, was afraid of Prince. He suspected that the horse would remember the blow he had given him, and would be likely to serve him the same trick the next time he mounted him. So he resolved that he would never ride out on Prince again; but he was equally anxious that John should also be prevented from using him. The words that his mother had last used led him to hope that she would agree to sell him, and, what was still more important in his eyes, give him the money resulting from the sale. Under these circumstances the triumph would still be his, and he would enjoy John's grief for the loss of his horse.

When Ben descended from his chamber, in a clean suit, he found that his mother had taken measures to console him for his mortifying adventure. The tea-table was spread, and two or three delicacies such as he particularly liked were set before his plate. Ben surveyed this with satisfaction, for he was something of a gourmand.

"I thought you might be hungry, Ben," said his mother; "so I got some of that marmalade that you like so well, and here is some hot mince-pie."

"That's just what I like, mother."

"We will sit down at once. John can come when he gets ready."

"What are you going to do about that horse, mother?" asked Ben, rather indistinctly, for his mouth was full.

"I did intend to keep him for your use; but if he is likely to play such tricks as he has to-day, I suppose I had better sell him."