Johnnie Green tied his halter rope to a ring in the wall.

"Don't do that!" the old horse Ebenezer called to him. "There's no
danger. That noise is nothing to be afraid of. It's only the smith
pounding a horseshoe on his anvil."

Twinkleheels looked relieved--and just a bit sheepish.

"I'm glad you came with me," he said, "I'd have been frightened if
you--." A queer hiss made Twinkleheels forget what he was saying.
"What's that?" he cried. "Is there a goose hidden somewhere in the
smithy?"

"No! The smith put the hot shoe into a tub of water, to cool," Ebenezer
explained. He couldn't help smiling a bit.

A scrubby looking white mare who was being shod turned her head and
stared at Ebenezer and his small companion.

"It's easy to see," she exclaimed, "that that colt has never been in a
smithy before. In my opinion he ought to be at home with his mother.
This is no place for children."

Before Ebenezer could answer her, Twinkleheels himself spoke up sharply.

"I don't know who you are, madam," he snapped. "But I'd like you to
understand that I'm no colt. I'm a pony. And I must say that I think you
owe me an apology."

XVII

A WHITE VIXEN

The white mare that the blacksmith was shoeing looked much surprised
when Twinkleheels told her he was not a colt.

"Well, well!" she cried. "A pony, eh? Who'd have thought it? Anyhow,
you've never been shod in your life. I can tell that by the way you
act." And she cackled in a most unpleasant fashion.

"What shall I say to her?" Twinkleheels asked Ebenezer. "She hasn't
apologized to me."

"Pay no attention to her," the old horse advised him in an undertone.
"She's a low bred person. I've often met her on the road and she always
wants to stop and talk. But I hurry past her."

"What are you saying?" the white mare asked in a sour tone. "Are you
gossiping about me?" She laid her ears back and showed her yellow teeth.

"You see why I don't care to have anything to do with her," Ebenezer
muttered to Twinkleheels.

"I'd kick you if I could reach you--and that pony too," the white mare
squealed. "I'm a lady--I am. And you'd better be careful what you say
about me."

Because she was angry and couldn't kick either Twinkleheels or Ebenezer
she felt that she must kick somebody. So she let fly at the blacksmith,
who had just stepped up beside her.

Strangely enough, instead of jumping away from her, the blacksmith
crowded as close to her as he could get. He knew wh