such a vicious beast?" asked Peabody of the
owner.

"Solomon isn't vicious; he's only lazy," said Chapman. "We can't blame
him much."

"I think he ought to be shot," said Peabody, painfully rising, and
stretching out one limb after another to make sure that none was broken.

"You seem to be unlucky, Mr. Peabody," said Tom.

"I'm always unlucky," moaned Peabody.

"Will you ride again, Mr. Peabody?" asked Chapman. "I'll catch Solomon
for you, if you like."

"Not for fifty dollars!" exclaimed Peabody energetically. "It is as much
as anybody's life is worth."

"If you will make me the same offer, I won't refuse, Mr. Chapman," said
Tom.

"You can mount him, if you like."

Tom waited for no second invitation. He approached Solomon cautiously,
vaulted upon his back, and the animal, disagreeably surprised, had
recourse to the same tactics which had proved so successful in the case
of the young man from Boston. But he had a different kind of a rider to
deal with. Tom had been accustomed to ride from the time he was six
years of age, and he stuck to his seat in spite of all attempts to
dislodge him. So far from feeling alarmed, he enjoyed the struggle.

"It's no go, Solomon!" he said gaily. "You've tackled the wrong customer
this time. Better make up your mind to go as I want you to."

Solomon came to the same conclusion after a time. He had tried his
ordinary tactics, and they had proved unavailing. The struggle had been
witnessed with some interest by the other members of the company.

"You can ride, youngster; that's a fact," said the owner of the donkey.
"I didn't say anything, but I rather expected to see you follow
Peabody."

"I'm used to riding," said Tom modestly. "Mr. Peabody is not."

"Every lad ought to know how to ride," said Ferguson. "It's a deal
manlier than smoking a cigar, to my thinking."

"I can smoke a cigar," said Peabody, desirous probably of appearing to
possess one manly accomplishment.

"You will hardly find it as useful as riding in the new country you are
going to, Mr. Peabody," said Ferguson dryly.

"I'd give something for a good cigar myself," said John Miles.

"I prefer riding," said Tom. "I never smoked a cigar in my life."

"You are just as well off without it, my lad," said the Scotchman. "It
don't do men any good, and always harms boys."

Peabody never again mounted Solomon. One trial was sufficient, and,
footsore and lame as he was, he decidedly preferred to walk.