“I believe so. Anyway, he wore the same harness.”
“They don’t make harness the way they used to,” mourned Evan. “Look at that trace; why, that should have lasted years yet!”
“I know; it’s a shame,” said Malcolm. “That’s a perfectly good harness. I saw one just like it once in a museum. Well, accidents will happen!”
Meanwhile the farmer, muttering crossly, had managed to mend the break with the aid of his knife and a piece of stout cord. Now he climbed on to the seat again and picked up the reins.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” he asked venomously.
“Well,” answered Rob modestly, “far be it from us to sound our own praises.”
“You’re a parcel of young fools, that’s what you be! Get ap!”
“Whoa!” shouted Jelly.
The horse preferred the second command to the first and remained motionless.
“Get ap, I say! Get ap!”