fair every fall, I used to meet a great
many horses. And I learned then that mealy noses are by no means rare."

The bays stamped impatiently.

"We don't care to argue about this pony's nose," said the one whose
stall was next to Ebenezer's. "His nose is a small matter. We do insist,
however, that he help with the thrashing. Maybe you've done your share
of the thrashing in times past. But this pony's a loafer. We want to see
him work."

Poor Twinkleheels felt most unhappy. "Haven't I said I'd like to walk on
the tread mill?" Twinkleheels cried. "But Farmer Green would never allow
me to."

"We don't care to argue with you," said the bay who stood beside
Ebenezer. "You are altogether too small for us to bother with any
longer."

"If I'm so small, then I shouldn't think what few oats I eat would annoy
you," said Twinkleheels.

"Oh, your appetite's big enough!" cried the other bay. "You're always
eating something. Yesterday we saw Johnnie Green ride you up to the
kitchen window where Mrs. Green was peeling potatoes. And she gave you a
potato. And you ate it."

"People are always feeding you," echoed the bay's bay mate.

"How can I help that?" Twinkleheels asked them.

"You could decline with thanks," they explained.

Twinkleheels shook his head.

"It wouldn't be polite," he said. "Besides, I like potatoes and apples
and carrots even more than oats and hay."

Just then Farmer Green came into the barn and backed the bays out of
their stalls. They both sighed.

"We're in for it now," they told Ebenezer. "He's going to take us out
and make us walk on the tread mill."

A little later Johnnie Green saddled Twinkleheels and followed his
father and the bays to the field where the thrashing machine stood
beside several stacks of oats.

Before Johnnie and Twinkleheels arrived on the scene a great clatter
warned them that thrashing had already begun. Hurrying up, they found
the bays toiling up the endless path that slid always downward beneath
them.

The bays were a glum appearing pair. Twinkleheels tried to speak to
them, but the thrashing machine made such a racket that they couldn't
hear him whinny; and he couldn't catch their eyes. They wouldn't look at
him.

A stream of oats was pouring out of the grain spout. Johnnie Green
dismounted. Picking up a handful of the newly thrashed oats, he fed
Twinkleheels.

The bays looked at Twinkleheels then. They looked at him with envy.

"That pony has begun to eat up