Mary Erskine | Page 5

the naked back of a horse, it was manifestly impossible for
any body but a rope-dancer. When, however, Jemmy saw his father
placing the bags of grain upon the horse, he perceived at once that a
good broad and level surface was produced by them, which was much
more extended and level, even than the pads of the circus-riders. He
instantly resolved, that the moment that he got completely away from
the village, he would mount upon the bags and ride standing--and ride
so, too, just as long as he pleased.
Accordingly, as soon as he had passed the house where Phonny lived,
which was the last house in that direction for some distance, he looked
round in order to be sure that his father was not by any accident behind
him, and then climbing up first upon his knees, and afterward upon his
feet, he drew up the reins cautiously, and then chirruped to the horse to
go on. The horse began to move slowly along. Jemmy was surprised
and delighted to find how firm his footing was on the broad surface of
the bags. Growing more and more bold and confident as he became
accustomed to his situation, he began presently to dance about, or
rather to perform certain awkward antics, which he considered dancing,
looking round continually, with a mingled expression of guilt, pleasure,
and fear, in his countenance, in order to be sure that his father was not
coming. Finally, he undertook to make his horse trot a little. The horse,
however, by this time, began to grow somewhat impatient at the
unusual sensations which he experienced--the weight of the rider being
concentrated upon one single point, directly on his back, and resting
very unsteadily and interruptedly there,--and the bridle-reins passing up

almost perpendicularly into the air, instead of declining backwards, as
they ought to do in any proper position of the horseman. He began to
trot forward faster and faster. Jemmy soon found that it would be
prudent to restrain him, but in his upright position, he had no control
over the horse by pulling the reins. He only pulled the horse's head
upwards, and made him more uneasy and impatient than before. He
then attempted to get down into a sitting posture again, but in doing so,
he fell off upon the hard road and sprained his ankle. The horse trotted
rapidly on, until the bags fell off, first one and then the other. Finding
himself thus wholly at liberty, he stopped and began to eat the grass at
the road-side, wholly unconcerned at the mischief that had been done.
Jemmy's distress was owing much more to his alarm and his sense of
guilt, than to the actual pain of the injury which he had suffered. He
was, however, entirely disabled by the sprain.
"It is rather a hard case," said Beechnut, "no doubt, but never mind it,
Jemmy. A man may break his leg, and yet live to dance many a
hornpipe afterwards. You'll get over all this and laugh about it one day.
Come, I'll carry you home in my wagon."
"But I am afraid to go home," said Jemmy.
"What are you afraid of?" asked Beechnut.
"Of my father," said Jemmy.
"Oh no," said Beechnut. "The horse is not hurt, and as for the grist I'll
carry it to mill with mine. So there is no harm done. Come, let me put
you into the wagon."
"Yes," said Phonny, "and I will go and catch the horse."
While Beechnut was putting Jemmy into the wagon, Phonny ran along
the road toward the horse. The horse, hearing footsteps, and supposing
from the sound that somebody might be coming to catch him, was at
first disposed to set off and gallop away; but looking round and seeing
that it was nobody but Phonny he went on eating as before. When

Phonny got pretty near to the horse, he began to walk up slowly
towards him, putting out his hand as if to take hold of the bridle and
saying, "Whoa--Dobbin,--whoa." The horse raised his head a little from
the grass, shook it very expressively at Phonny, walked on a few steps,
and then began to feed upon the grass as before. He seemed to know
precisely how much resistance was necessary to avoid the recapture
with which he was threatened.
"Whoa Jack! whoa!" said Phonny, advancing again. The horse,
however, moved on, shaking his head as before. He seemed to be no
more disposed to recognize the name of Jack than Dobbin.
[Illustration: CATCHING THE HORSE.]
"Jemmy," said Phonny, turning back and calling out aloud, "Jemmy!
what's his name?"
Jemmy did not answer. He was fully occupied in getting into the
wagon.
Beechnut called Phonny back and asked him to hold his horse, while he