"Champ's pony is the only one you haven't introduced," said Dallas. "What's his name?"
"He's David Wales. I like him better than Big Chief's Hackney. Notice his snappy and free way and his good head and neck. I tell you he's a well-formed little fellow, and fine for rough districts. The Welsh ponies are always rugged and thrifty sort of creatures. I don't like them as well as other kinds for small children. Champ is just old enough to manage him."
"Is he vicious?" asked my young master.
"Not a bit, but he wants a firm hand. There's heaps of go in him. Come on, let's run up to the stable and have a crack wi' Jock. He's a University graduate and has dandy manners—son of an old friend of Dad's—came here for his health. Wait till you hear him play the violin.
"'Let's all go mad!
Let's all go mad!'"
and the young girl began to dance her way toward the stable yard, while Apache Girl zigzagged behind her.
My young master, not to be outdone by anyone, began to dance, too, and sing, and his beautiful voice soon drowned Cassowary's for he forgot all about her.
"Here we go up to the stable, stable,"