“I don’t want another horse. I want Ticktock,” said Jim.
While he was deep in misery, Jim did not lose hope. Somehow he felt that Ticktock would escape from the thief and return. He was confident that no matter how far the mustang might be ridden he would discover the way back home. The third day following the theft was Saturday. The family tried to persuade Jim to go to town to take his mind off his loss, but he was firm in insisting on staying home. A message was sent to Colonel Flesher that he would not be in for work for the sale. Ticktock might possibly return, Jim felt, and he wanted to be home to greet him.
Jim sat sadly on the front porch after the family left for town, looking up and down the road hoping to see the mustang. Three days was a long time. A man could ride a horse a great distance in that length of time. Still Jim kept gazing at the road hopefully. Suddenly he jumped up and rubbed his eyes. He had been searching so long that he thought he was now dreaming. He looked again and still saw the same wonderful sight. Ticktock was jogging contentedly down the road toward home.
Jim ran to the gate to meet his horse. He threw his arms around the pony’s neck and hugged him through sheer joy.
“You came back, boy, you came back!” he cried happily.
Ticktock closed one eye and winked. He wasn’t a demonstrative horse.
As Jim started to lead his prodigal pony into the yard, he noticed for the first time that Ticktock wore no bridle.
“So you had to slip your bridle to get away,” he said. “Well, you did a good job. We’ll get another old bridle. I’ll bet you’re tired and hungry. You must have come a long way; so I’ll take the saddle off and let you rest.”
When the saddle was removed, there was very little perspiration beneath the blanket. The hair was scarcely ruffled. Jim stood back and looked at Ticktock in puzzlement.
“You don’t look as if you had come so far,” he observed. “In fact, you look as if you had just been groomed.”