rd
to lose don't often lose!"

Before starting off Fred, glancing over at Dick & Co. standing
dolefully on the truck, brayed insolently:

"Haw, haw, haw!"

Dave clenched his fists, but knew that he could do nothing without
making himself ridiculous.

"Get up, Prince!" ordered young Ripley, bringing one hand smartly
against the animal's flank.

"He's going to call his pony 'Prince,'" whispered Danny Grin.

"It looks like an appropriate name," nodded Dick wistfully.

For some reason the pony didn't seem inclined to start. Fred
dug his heels against the animal's side and moved away at a walk.

"A-a-a-ah!" murmured a crowd of small boys enviously.

"Now, show a little speed, Prince," ordered Fred, digging his
heels in hard.

The pony broke into a trot. Someone passed Ripley a switch, with
which he dealt his animal a stinging blow. Away went pony and
rider at a slow canter.

"Fine gait this little fellow has," exulted Fred, while cheers
went up from the small boys.

Suddenly the animal slowed down to a walk. Fred applied two sharp
cuts with the switch, again starting his mount. Fred turned
and came cantering back toward the group, feeling mightily proud
of himself.

Suddenly the pony stopped, trembling in every limb.

"Get off, young man!" called someone. "Your pony is going to
fall!"

Fred got off, feeling rather peculiar. He wished that the six
fellow high school boys over on the truck would move off.

Mr. Dodge hurried over to the young man, looking very much concerned.

"Fred," murmured the banker, "for all his fine looks I'm afraid
there is something wrong with your pony."

"What is it?" asked Fred, looking, as he felt, vastly troubled.

At that moment an automobile stopped out in the road.

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Dodge," called the chauffeur, "but are you
going to want me soon?"

"I want you at once," called back the banker, adding in a lower
voice to Fred:

"Flannery, my new chauffeur, was a coachman for many years. He's
a fine judge of horseflesh."

Flannery came up, an inquiring look on his face.

"I want you to look this pony over and tell me just what you think
of him," directed the banker.

Flannery went over the pony's "lines" with the air of an expert,
as, indeed, he was.

"Fine-looking little beast," said Flannery. "He has been well
fed and groomed."

Then he looked into the pony's mouth, examining the teeth with
great care.

"Used to be a nice animal once," dec