“No, I’m not sorry I traded,” said Jim, as if in answer to a question. “But I’m going to miss that watch. I know what I’m going to do. I’ll call you ‘Ticktock’ after my watch.”
Chapter Two
The Reception
After tying Ticktock to the orchard fence, Jim stepped back and regarded his property with admiration. Ownership had caused the mustang to take on new beauty in the eyes of the boy. There were so many things to be done that Jim was uncertain where to start. He had to feed the pony, comb out his mane and tail, give him a good grooming and do something about that saddle sore. After much thought, Jim finally decided the most important and most enjoyable thing to do was to win his horse’s confidence. He ran happily into the house and down the cellar stairs. There were still a few apples left, he knew from frequent trips to the barrel.
“Here you are, Ticktock,” he said, returning with an apple. “It’s a winesap and no worms in it either.”
Cutting the apple in half, he carefully removed the core and offered one-half in his outstretched hand. Ticktock moved forward cautiously. After a few moments of doubtful sniffing, he picked the apple delicately from the boy’s outstretched palm. He ate it with obvious relish.
“Liked it, didn’t you?” asked Jim, getting more pleasure than if he had eaten the apple himself.
Ticktock didn’t reply. He stuck his head forward and sniffed at Jim’s other hand.
“Say, you’re pretty smart,” said Jim admiringly, as he gave the pony the remainder of the apple. “You know there’s two halves to an apple.”
By this time Jim felt confident enough to begin stroking the mustang’s head. Next he gently scratched the horse’s ears. He knew dogs liked their ears scratched, so why not horses? Ticktock didn’t seem to mind, for he stood patiently. Jim had progressed as far as the neck when there was an interruption. Colonel Flesher drove in the yard in his little truck. The fleshy stock buyer climbed out of his car and walked toward the boy.
“Good afternoon, Colonel,” said Jim, glad to see the visitor. Now here was a man who would appreciate the finer points of a beautiful horse. “Come see my mustang.”