"No," said Ned; "but he is reading a book about it, that tells you just what to do."
"And how far is the pasture?"
"Four miles,—Kidd's pasture,—straight down Jay street, past the stone brewery. Kidd lives in a yellow house on the right side of the road; and when we get there we're to look out for the dog."
"It must be pretty savage, or they wouldn't tell us to look out for it. Are you going to take a pistol?"
"No; Fay says if the dog comes out, he'll ride right over him. You can't aim a pistol very steadily when you are riding full gallop on horseback."
"I suppose not," said I. "I never tried it. But after we've left the horse in the pasture, how are we to get back past the dog?"
"If Fay once rides over that dog, on that horse," said Ned, in a tone of solemn confidence, "there won't be much bite left in him when we come back."
So we said good-night, and went to bed to dream of morning canters through lovely scenery, dotted with stone breweries, and of riding triumphantly into pasture over the bodies of ferocious dogs.
A more beautiful morning never dawned, and we boys were up not much later than the sun.
The first thing to do was to untie the horse; and as he had managed to get his leg over the halter-rope, this was no easy task. Before we had accomplished it, Ned suggested that it would be better not to untie him till after we had put on the saddle; which suggestion Phaeton adopted. The saddle was pretty heavy, but we found no great difficulty in landing it on the animal's back. The trouble was, to dispose of a long strap with a loop at the end, which evidently was intended to go around the horse's tail, to keep the saddle from sliding forward upon his neck. None of us liked to try the experiment of standing behind the animal to adjust that loop.