Beautiful Joe [79]
after I went to Dingley Farm I was very shy of the horses, for
I was afraid they might kick me, thinking that I was a bad dog like Bruno.
However, they all had such good faces, and looked at me so kindly, that I was
beginning to get over my fear of them.
Fleetfoot, Mr. Harry's colt, was my favorite, and one afternoon, when Mr. Harry
and Miss Laura were going out to see him, I followed them. Fleetfoot was amusing
himself by rolling over and over on the grass under a tree, but when he saw Mr.
Harry, he gave a shrill whinny, and running to him, began nosing about his
pockets.
"Wait a bit," said Mr. Harry, holding him by the forelock. "Let me introduce you
to this young lady, Miss Laura Morris. I want you to make her a bow." He gave
the colt some sign, and immediately he began to paw the ground and shake his
head.
Mr. Harry laughed and went on: "Here is her dog Joe. I want you to like him,
too. Come here, Joe." I was not at all afraid, for I knew Mr. Harry would not
let him hurt me, so I stood in front of him, and for the first time had a good
look at him. They called him the colt, but he was really a full-grown horse, and
had already been put to work. He was of a dark chestnut color, and had a well-
shaped body and a long, handsome head, and I never saw, in the head of a man or
beast, a more beautiful pair of eyes than that colt had large, full, brown eyes
they were that he turned on me almost as a person would. He looked me all over
as if to say: "Are you a good dog, and will you treat me kindly, or are you a
bad one like Bruno, and will you chase me and snap at my heels and worry me, so
that I shall want to kick you?"
I looked at him very earnestly and wagged my body, and lifted myself on my hind
legs toward him. He seemed pleased and put down his nose to sniff at me, and
then we were friends. Friends, and such good friends, for next to Jim and Billy,
I have loved Fleetfoot.
Mr. Harry pulled some lumps of sugar out of his pocket, and giving them to Miss
Laura, told her to put them on the palm of her hand and hold it out flat toward
Fleetfoot. The colt ate the sugar, and all the time eyed her with his quiet,
observing glance, that made her exclaim: "What wise-looking colt!"
"He is like an old horse," said Mr. Harry, "When he hears a sudden noise, he
stops and looks all about him to find an explanation."
"He has been well trained," said Miss Laura.
"I have brought him up carefully," said Mr. Harry. "Really, he has been treated
more like a dog than a colt. He follows me about the farm and smells everything
I handle, and seems to want to know the reason of things."
"Your mother says," replied Miss Laura, "that she found you both asleep on the
lawn one day last summer, and the colt's head was on your arm."
Mr. Harry smiled and threw his arm over the colt's neck. "We've been comrades,
haven't we, Fleetfoot? I've been almost ashamed of his devotion. He has followed
me to the village, and he always wants to go fishing with me. He's four years
old now, so he ought to get over those coltish ways. I've driven him a good
deal. We're going out in the buggy this afternoon, will you come?"
"Where are you going?" asked Miss Laura.
"Just for a short drive back of the river, to collect some money for father.
I'll be home long before tea time."
"Yes, I should like to go," said Miss Laura "I shall go to the house and get my
other hat."
"Come on, Fleetfoot," said Mr. Harry. And he led the way from the pasture, the
colt following behind with me. I waited about the veranda, and in a short time
Mr. Harry drove up to the front door. The buggy was black and shining, and
Fleetfoot had on a silver-mounted harness that made him look very fine. He stood
gently switching his long tail to keep the flies away, and with his head turned
to see who was going to get into the buggy. I stood by him, and as soon as he
saw that Miss Laura and Mr. Harry had seated themselves, he acted as if he
wanted to be off. Mr. Harry spoke to him and
I was afraid they might kick me, thinking that I was a bad dog like Bruno.
However, they all had such good faces, and looked at me so kindly, that I was
beginning to get over my fear of them.
Fleetfoot, Mr. Harry's colt, was my favorite, and one afternoon, when Mr. Harry
and Miss Laura were going out to see him, I followed them. Fleetfoot was amusing
himself by rolling over and over on the grass under a tree, but when he saw Mr.
Harry, he gave a shrill whinny, and running to him, began nosing about his
pockets.
"Wait a bit," said Mr. Harry, holding him by the forelock. "Let me introduce you
to this young lady, Miss Laura Morris. I want you to make her a bow." He gave
the colt some sign, and immediately he began to paw the ground and shake his
head.
Mr. Harry laughed and went on: "Here is her dog Joe. I want you to like him,
too. Come here, Joe." I was not at all afraid, for I knew Mr. Harry would not
let him hurt me, so I stood in front of him, and for the first time had a good
look at him. They called him the colt, but he was really a full-grown horse, and
had already been put to work. He was of a dark chestnut color, and had a well-
shaped body and a long, handsome head, and I never saw, in the head of a man or
beast, a more beautiful pair of eyes than that colt had large, full, brown eyes
they were that he turned on me almost as a person would. He looked me all over
as if to say: "Are you a good dog, and will you treat me kindly, or are you a
bad one like Bruno, and will you chase me and snap at my heels and worry me, so
that I shall want to kick you?"
I looked at him very earnestly and wagged my body, and lifted myself on my hind
legs toward him. He seemed pleased and put down his nose to sniff at me, and
then we were friends. Friends, and such good friends, for next to Jim and Billy,
I have loved Fleetfoot.
Mr. Harry pulled some lumps of sugar out of his pocket, and giving them to Miss
Laura, told her to put them on the palm of her hand and hold it out flat toward
Fleetfoot. The colt ate the sugar, and all the time eyed her with his quiet,
observing glance, that made her exclaim: "What wise-looking colt!"
"He is like an old horse," said Mr. Harry, "When he hears a sudden noise, he
stops and looks all about him to find an explanation."
"He has been well trained," said Miss Laura.
"I have brought him up carefully," said Mr. Harry. "Really, he has been treated
more like a dog than a colt. He follows me about the farm and smells everything
I handle, and seems to want to know the reason of things."
"Your mother says," replied Miss Laura, "that she found you both asleep on the
lawn one day last summer, and the colt's head was on your arm."
Mr. Harry smiled and threw his arm over the colt's neck. "We've been comrades,
haven't we, Fleetfoot? I've been almost ashamed of his devotion. He has followed
me to the village, and he always wants to go fishing with me. He's four years
old now, so he ought to get over those coltish ways. I've driven him a good
deal. We're going out in the buggy this afternoon, will you come?"
"Where are you going?" asked Miss Laura.
"Just for a short drive back of the river, to collect some money for father.
I'll be home long before tea time."
"Yes, I should like to go," said Miss Laura "I shall go to the house and get my
other hat."
"Come on, Fleetfoot," said Mr. Harry. And he led the way from the pasture, the
colt following behind with me. I waited about the veranda, and in a short time
Mr. Harry drove up to the front door. The buggy was black and shining, and
Fleetfoot had on a silver-mounted harness that made him look very fine. He stood
gently switching his long tail to keep the flies away, and with his head turned
to see who was going to get into the buggy. I stood by him, and as soon as he
saw that Miss Laura and Mr. Harry had seated themselves, he acted as if he
wanted to be off. Mr. Harry spoke to him and