this is
one of the ways to drive an obstinate donkey!'

By dint of much hard work, in which Harry imagined that he had largely
assisted, Tim was at last got past the waggon; while Mrs. Raeburn, by
means of stone-throwing, kept Sambo's head back from the hedge.

When the manoeuvre had been successfully carried out, Major Raeburn
suggested that as Frank seemed to understand donkeys, he might drive Tim
home.

'You see, my boy, I feel as if I had done enough driving for to-day!'

'Oh, thank you,' murmured the boy, flushing with pleasure, for he loved
driving; 'and now, Mrs. Raeburn, where is your box of stones?'

Mrs. Raeburn stared at him in surprise; 'My _what_?'

'Your box of stones,' he repeated. 'You can't drive a donkey like any
other animal. Not got any? Oh, no wonder you had trouble! Father, have
you got Sambo's stones there? Thanks, that is the box,' as the Squire
handed him a large cocoa tin half filled with pebbles. 'Now, Harry, you
must hold the box and stand at the top of the cart close to Tim. Yes!
that's it. Now away we go. Come along, old boy!'--this to Tim; but Tim
refused to move. 'Now then, Harry, lean over, and rattle the stones as
hard as ever you can.'

Trembling with excitement, Harry did as he was told; the result was
instantaneous. Away went Tim as hard as he could gallop.

'Well!' sighed Mrs. Raeburn, in utter astonishment 'that is a simple
remedy; but what can we do to stop him when he shies?'

'At what sort of things does he shy?'

Tim answered this question for himself, by shying violently at a dark
shadow that fell across the road.

'Ah! he is nervous, Sambo did that at first. You see he was a town
donkey also, and when carts and shadows suddenly came upon him in a
quiet lane he was afraid of them. Now he is used to them!'

'And when he bolts, Frank?'

'Don't give him so much to eat, Mrs. Raeburn. Stop that, Tim.' Tim had
taken advantage of the conversation to try and get a bite of grass from
the side of the road. 'Stones again, Harry,' and Harry, only too glad to
feel that he was assisting in the driving, rattled the stones gaily,
laughing and chattering with delight.

Away went Tim again, and Mrs. Raeburn's spirits rose. 'Why, he goes
beautifully with you, Frank.'

'There is no trick about it, Mrs. Raeburn; only he has evidently been
accustomed to stones, and won't stand a whip. We heard how he smashed up
Mrs. Wood's gate! If you had had stones he would have been all right.'