"Will you ride again, Mr. Peabody?" asked Chapman. "I'll catch Solomon for you, if you like."
"Not for fifty dollars!" exclaimed Peabody energetically. "It is as much as anybody's life is worth."
"If you will make me the same offer, I won't refuse, Mr. Chapman," said Tom.
"You can mount him, if you like."
Tom waited for no second invitation. He approached Solomon cautiously, vaulted upon his back, and the animal, disagreeably surprised, had recourse to the same tactics which had proved so successful in the case of the young man from Boston. But he had a different kind of a rider to deal with. Tom had been accustomed to ride from the time he was six years of age, and he stuck to his seat in spite of all attempts to dislodge him. So far from feeling alarmed, he enjoyed the struggle.
"It's no go, Solomon!" he said gaily. "You've tackled the wrong customer this time. Better make up your mind to go as I want you to."
Solomon came to the same conclusion after a time. He had tried his ordinary tactics, and they had proved unavailing. The struggle had been witnessed with some interest by the other members of the company.
"You can ride, youngster; that's a fact," said the owner of the donkey. "I didn't say anything, but I rather expected to see you follow Peabody."
"I'm used to riding," said Tom modestly. "Mr. Peabody is not."
"Every lad ought to know how to ride," said Ferguson. "It's a deal manlier than smoking a cigar, to my thinking."