Sunny’s busy, mischievous fingers had untied the strap as he talked, and now Peter could have walked away to the barn and his dinner, had he only known it. He didn’t though, and so he was very much surprised to feel little feet digging into him as Sunny Boy scrambled desperately to get on his back. Peter and Paul were fat and slow or they never would have stood the antics of Sunny as that small person, clinging to Peter’s mane, and using Paul as a kind of step-ladder, pushed and pulled and climbed till he found himself where he wished to be—on Peter’s broad back.
“Gee, you’re a tall horse!” he observed, gathering the halter strap in one hand as he had seen Jimmie take the reins. “Oh, there’s what you ought to have on—I didn’t see it.”
The bridles and reins lay on the ground where Jimmie had dropped them when he had unharnessed the horses from the wagon. But Sunny Boy was not minded to get down after such a trifle—he had had too much trouble to secure his present seat.
“Gid-ap!” he said loudly, and jerked the halter strap.
Over in the field, Jimmie straightened an aching young back and gazed in amazement.
“Say—hey, Sunny—Sunny Horton! Get off that horse—do you hear me?” he shouted.
Sunny Boy heard. He turned and grinned impishly. He delighted to plague Jimmie, and he was having fun guiding Peter.
Then Jimmie rather lost his head. Had he kept still, Peter would probably have ambled gently about the meadow, perhaps turned into the road that led to the house and barn, and Sunny’s adventure might have been a very mild one. But Jimmie was frightened, and in his fear he did the one thing that could have brought about what he feared. He leaped the fence and came running toward the horse.
“Gid-ap, Peter! Go ’long! Hurry!” Sunny slapped the strap smartly across old Peter’s neck.
That easy-going horse was not used to such treatment, and he broke into a trot. Jimmie began to shout and wave his arms. Then Peter broke into a gallop, taking great, long easy strides that seemed to cover miles of ground to Sunny’s excited eyes.