Jim could only stare in consternation. There must have been at least a dozen melons broken and no telling how many cracked. Numbed, he got down from his horse.
“Gee, I didn’t know they were there, Dad.”
“Obviously. You’ve ruined half my morning’s work with that crazy horse of yours,” said his father, the old animosity toward the mustang coming back in his anger.
“Ticktock just jumped where I told him to,” explained Jim, who was anxious above all else to remove any blame from his horse. “It was my fault.”
Ticktock was very calm. He turned around to survey the damage and became interested in the broken melons. He had never looked at a melon closely before and was intrigued. He bent his head down and took a nibble at some of the ripe red pulp. It tasted delicious. Curious as to just how a melon was made, he reached out with a forefoot and pawed one of the remaining unbroken ones. It cracked readily, exposing the red interior. Very pleased with himself, Ticktock took another big nibble.
“Will you look at that!” shouted the now enraged Mr. Meadows. “Not satisfied with breaking half the pile, that fool horse has to crack another melon and eat it.”
Jim hadn’t been watching his horse too closely, but now he grabbed Ticktock’s reins to prevent further damage.
“I’ll pick some more,” he offered. “I came down here to help you.”
“You’re certainly a big help,” said his father. “Get that horse out of my sight. I’ll do better without you. There’s been enough of this irresponsible jumping and chasing around here. You should never have taught him to jump in the first place. How are you going to keep him any place when he can jump fences?”
Sadly Jim led his pony out of the garden gate. It had certainly been a disastrous day. He left the mustang tied to the orchard fence and went into the house.