Ned and I crossed by the bridge.
"I only hope Uncle Jacob won't blame me if the horse takes cold," said Phaeton.
"Can't we prevent it?" said Ned.
"What can you do?" said Phaeton.
"I think we ought to rub him off perfectly dry, at once," said Ned. "That's the way Mr. Gifford's groom does."
"I guess that's so," said Phaeton. "You two go to that hay-stack over there, and get some good wisps to rub him down."
Ned and I each brought a large armful of hay.
"Now, see here, Fay," said Ned, "you've got to get off from that horse and help rub him. We're not going to do it all."
"But how can I get on again?" said Phaeton.
"I don't care how," said Ned. "You've had all the ride, and you must expect to do some of the work. If you don't, I'll let him die of quick consumption before I'll rub him."