“It’s much more fun to be pulling a light, little cart like that around the city streets, than to haul a great big heavy coal wagon, such as I am hitched to,” went on the big horse.
“Yes, but see how strong you are!” observed Tinkle. “I never could pull such a heavy load as you haul.”
“No, I guess you couldn’t,” said the coal horse. “Especially up some of the hills we have. It is almost more than I can do, and there is one hill that I have to take a rest on, half way up, but my driver is good to me, and never whips me, which is more than I can say of some drivers I have known. So I guess, after all, it is better for you to draw the pony cart and for me to stick to the coal wagon.”
“Indeed it is,” said a horse that was hitched to one of the grocery wagons. “You’d look funny, coal-horse, trying to fit between the shafts of that pony cart.”
“I suppose I would,” admitted the other, laughing, in a way horses have among themselves.
When George and Mabel came out of the store, with the bag of sugar lumps, they saw the two horses—one hitched to a coal wagon and the other to a grocery cart—rubbing noses with Tinkle.
“They’re kissing each other,” laughed the little girl.
But the horses and the pony were really talking among themselves, and even Patrick, much as he knew about animals, did not understand horse-talk.
“Let’s give Tinkle some sugar now,” said Mabel.
“All right,” answered George, so they gave the pony two lumps.