'And who is Sambo?' queried his father.
'Why, Sambo is the Hall donkey. Once'—in a tone of great importance—'I gave Sambo a carrot, and'—in an awe-struck voice—'he ate it!'
'Extraordinary animal!' murmured the Major, in a voice of the greatest surprise. 'Now, then, Tim, my boy, don't get alarmed; that black head belongs to your brother, Sambo.'
If Tim was surprised to see Sambo, Sambo was evidently still more astonished to see him, and the black head disappeared, only to reappear over the hedge in a line with the cart.
Up went Tim's ears in an inquiring way, and he shied violently to the other side of the road.
'Do speak to him, Jack,' said Mrs. Raeburn. 'If he shies like that again, he will have us all in the ditch!'
'Go on now, Tim,' and the Major gave the reins a sharp jerk; but Tim remained stationary, gazing at Sambo. To make matters worse, he was now standing right across the road, as this position enabled him to look at his new friend more thoroughly.
The inspection having proved satisfactory, Sambo's head suddenly went up in the air, and he started to bray with all the force of his powerful lungs.
Tim stepped back in feigned alarm, till the wheels of the cart were on the edge of the ditch; then he also raised his head, and joined in the noise.
The sound was so deafening that Mrs. Raeburn put her hands over her ears, while many expressions chased each other across Harry's face. He had never heard a donkey bray before, and at first was frightened. 'Father,' he whispered—there was a note of alarm in his voice—'what is that queer noise?'