[George threw his arms around the pony’s neck.]
“What does this mean?” asked Mr. Drake. “Do you say this is your pony? I bought him for the circus.”
“Yes, Tinkle is my pony,” cried George. “Mine and Mabel’s. I taught him some tricks, too. Make a bow, Tinkle.” And Tinkle did.
“Well, this is very strange,” said the trainer. “He minds you and does tricks for you. But I bought him of a man, and—”
“Perhaps I can explain,” said Mr. Farley, coming into the ring with Mabel, who not only put her arms around Tinkle’s neck but kissed him on his white star. And Tinkle rubbed his soft nose against her soft cheek. “This looks very much like my little boy’s pony, that was stolen from our stable some time ago,” went on Mr. Farley, and he told of having bought Tinkle at the stock farm.
“Well, I guess you’re right, and it is your little boy’s pet,” said the circus man, after Tinkle’s story had been told by Mr. Farley. “I didn’t like the looks of the man from whom I bought the pony, but I never thought he had stolen Tinkle.”
There was no doubt that Tinkle belonged to George. You could tell that by watching how glad the pony was to see his master again. The people in the audience thought it was all part of the circus, and laughed as Tinkle followed George about the ring.
The circus man was sorry to lose Tinkle but, as he said he had no right to him, he agreed to let George and Mabel have the pony back.