"Get up, Solomon!" exclaimed Peabody, striking the animal on the haunch.
Solomon felt that this was taking a personal liberty and he stood stock-still, his face expressive of obstinacy.
"Why don't he go on?" asked Peabody, perplexed.
"He's stopping to rest," said Tom. "I am afraid he is lazy."
"Go along!" exclaimed Peabody, again using his whip. But the animal did not budge.
"This is really very provoking," murmured the rider. "What shall I do?"
"Don't give up to him," advised one of the company. "Here, let me whip him."
"Thank you; I wish you would."
It was an unlucky speech. The other complied with the request, and delivered his blow with such emphasis that Solomon's equanimity was seriously disturbed. He dashed forward with what speed he could command, Mr. Peabody holding on, in a sort of panic, till he was a hundred yards away. Then he stopped suddenly, lowering his head, and his hapless rider was thrown over it, landing some distance in advance. Solomon looked at him with grim humor, if a donkey is capable of such a feeling, and, apparently satisfied, turned and walked complacently back to the wagon-train.
Several of the company, witnessing the accident, hurried forward to Mr. Peabody's assistance. They picked him up, groaning and bewildered, but not much hurt.