"I—I thought you meant to teach me," the boy said.
"Oh, there's not much teaching in getting on a pony," said his father unconcernedly. "You must find out some things for yourself. Take her into the little calf paddock—she can't get away from you there. Of course, I'll come and lift you up, if you'd rather."
"No, thanks," said Garth, his head well up. "I've finished—can I go, Mother?" She nodded, and he clattered out of the kitchen. The gate of the yard slammed behind him.
"Tom, is it safe?"
"Was I a brute?" he asked, and smiled at her. "I do want the little beggar to be independent—and he can't hurt himself on that old mare, in a little paddock. He'll manage all right, and be twice the boy for it."
"Come into the store-room—we can see him from the window," said Garth's mother. She caught Tom's hand, and they hurried into the store-room.
The window looked out upon a tiny paddock where the grass was green and thick, since its calf inhabitants had long been turned out into a wider run. Garth was leading old Jane, the brown pony, through the gate. Jane, it was evident, had no wish to be led; she hung back obstinately, until the long grass caught her eye. Then she became docile, and went through meekly, beginning to eat at once. Garth shut the gate, and, returning to his steed, looked at her. He wished he could remember how it was that people got on a horse. Finally he made a little run and sprang awkwardly in the direction where he would be.
There was never any sudden movement about Jane. Whether she stepped or swerved aside would have been difficult to say, for it was done unobtrusively; but the fact remained that when Garth was at the top of his spring, she was no longer there, but a yard or two away, eating peacefully. Garth came down on all fours in the grass, and arose, brushing his knees, his colour somewhat heightened. No four-footed beast had ever looked more innocent than Jane.
He twisted the halter round his wrist for his next attempt and clawed wildly at her withers. Jane gave a slow wriggle, and Garth found himself kneeling beside her, caressing his nose, which had bumped rather heavily against her plump side.
"Old beast—you did it on purpose!" they heard him say. He looked around him for means of help.