“I—I’m not going to do that again!” gasped the boy. “I can’t reach those reins and I’m not going to try. They’re too far away.”
“But what—what are we going to do?” faltered Sue, almost ready to cry. “He’s runnin’ away, isn’t he, Bunny?”
She seemed not quite sure about it.
“Oh, yes, he’s running away all right,” admitted Bunny. “He hasn’t done that for a long time, though. But he’s running away now.”
“Maybe he feels so good now, ’cause his hair doesn’t fall out any more, that he wants to run,” went on Sue.
“Maybe,” agreed Bunny.
“But we have to stop him!”
“Yes, we have to stop him.”
Bunny agreed on this point, but how it was going to be done was another matter. Toby seemed to be going faster now. He was running away in earnest, and the reins, dangling around his hind feet, did not make him feel any better. In fact they scared him.
The street was a quiet one, and up to now Bunny and Sue had met no other wagons, carriages or automobiles. And there were no persons in the street to run out and stop Toby, which might easily have been done, for the Shetland pony was not much bigger than a large Newfoundland dog.