good part, till at last I thought we
had had enough, so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint.
Boys, you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam-engine or a
thrashing-machine, and can go on as long and as fast as they please;
they never think that a pony can get tired, or have any feelings; so as
the one who was whipping me could not understand I just rose up on
my hind legs and let him slip off behind--that was all. He mounted me
again, and I did the same. Then the other boy got up, and as soon as
he began to use his stick I laid him on the grass, and so on, till they
were able to understand--that was all. They are not bad boys; they don't
wish to be cruel. I like them very well; but you see I had to give them
a lesson. When they brought me to James and told him I think he was very
angry to see such big sticks. He said they were only fit for drovers or
gypsies, and not for young gentlemen."

"If I had been you," said Ginger, "I would have given those boys a good
kick, and that would have given them a lesson."

"No doubt you would," said Merrylegs; "but then I am not quite such a
fool (begging your pardon) as to anger our master or make James ashamed
of me. Besides, those children are under my charge when they are riding;
I tell you they are intrusted to me. Why, only the other day I heard our
master say to Mrs. Blomefield, 'My dear madam, you need not be anxious
about the children; my old Merrylegs will take as much care of them as
you or I could; I assure you I would not sell that pony for any money,
he is so perfectly good-tempered and trustworthy;' and do you think I am
such an ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment I have
had here for five years, and all the trust they place in me, and turn
vicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me badly? No, no! you
never had a good place where they were kind to you, and so you don't
know, and I'm sorry for you; but I can tell you good places make good
horses. I wouldn't vex our people for anything; I love them, I do," said
Merrylegs, and he gave a low "ho, ho, ho!" through his nose, as he used
to do in the morning when he heard James' footstep at the door.

"Besides," he went on, "if I took to kicking where should I be? Why,
sold off in a jiffy, and no character, and I might find myself slaved
about under a butcher's boy, or worked to death at some seaside place
where no one cared for me, except to find out how fast I could go, or be
flogged al