Poor creature! the last sound we heard as I trotted away from the Last House, was Bolshy's roar of disappointment at being deprived of his new-found treasure.
"Thank goodness!" I said to myself, "we've done with him,"—but it was only a few hours before the bewitched Bolshy was skulking about Devering Farm and taxing my pony wits to know how to manage him.
CHAPTER XV A NIGHT PROWLER
I was a very tired pony that night, but I did not get much sleep.
I knew something was going to try to happen to my dear young master, and I was to prevent it.
I don't know how animals—dogs and horses especially, have these warnings—I only know that we just have them.
I had been put, not in pony stall number eight, for I fidgeted when Cassowary motioned me in there. I did not wish to be tied, so she gave me a loose box stall. This stall had a rolling door, always much better for a stable because a swinging door is apt to catch a pony or horse and give him a good whack. This was also better for my plans, for like those naughty people who can always get out of jail, I can nearly always find a way to open a door if it is not locked.
This night, all I had to do was to take hold of the metal handle with my teeth and pull the door back. I was the only pony on that side of the big stable—in fact there were only two horses on the other side. The other horses and ponies were still out to pasture.