“You’ll do no such thing. It won’t hurt Peleg to stay himself,” answered the boy, and, seizing her hand, he hurried her along.
They were obliged to wait a good half-hour, however, before the train arrived.
“Aren’t they beauties?” cried Phil, as the three horses stood on the ground.
“They sure are, and kind and easy to ride as kittens,” declared Andy. “Si was afraid you might not be much on riding, so he sent two of his grandchildren’s ponies.”
“Yours is a man-eater, I suppose?” grinned Jim.
“Well, there’s some folks I know couldn’t ride him,” retorted the agent. “Here, Phil, you and Ted take your choice. This sorrel is Pat, and the roan is Daisy.”
“Which do you want, Ted?” asked his brother. “You are the elder, it’s your first choice.”
“Then I’ll take Pat, he’s bigger.”
“Good! Here are the saddles and bridles. Put them on and we’ll ride up to the store,” said Andy.
But before they could obey, it was necessary to show the boys how to place the saddles and tighten the girths, for they did not know a cinch from a throat-latch. And fortunate it was that Mr. Hopkins had selected clever and gentle ponies, for the young homesteaders were sorry riders.