The Tale of Pony Twinkleheels | Page 4

Johnnie turned him into the
pasture, afterward, Johnnie never dreamed that Twinkleheels could be
planning any mischief.
The next morning Johnnie took Twinkleheels' halter and the four-quart
measure with three big handfuls of oats in it. Then he walked up the
lane to the pasture, leaned over the bars and whistled.

Though there was no pony in sight, Twinkleheels soon came strolling
out from behind a clump of bushes. He took his own time in picking his
way down the hillside, as though he might be glad to keep Johnnie
Green waiting.
"Come on! Come on!" Johnnie called. "Come and get your oats!" And
he shook the measure before him.
To his great surprise, Twinkleheels didn't come running up and reach
out to get the oats. Instead, he stopped short, with his feet planted
squarely under him, as if he didn't intend to budge. Johnnie Green took
one step towards him. And then Twinkleheels whisked around and ran.
He shook his head and kicked up his heels. And something very like a
laugh came floating back to Johnnie Green's ears.
Johnnie followed him all over the pasture. And when the dinner horn
sounded at the farmhouse Johnnie had to go home without
Twinkleheels.
The afternoon was half gone before Twinkleheels let his young master
put the halter on him. By that time Johnnie Green had learned
something that he never forgot.
Never again did he cheat Twinkleheels with an empty measure. He
knew that Twinkleheels expected fair play, just as much as the boys
with whom Johnnie played ball, over the hill.

V
FLYING FEET
When July brought hot, dry weather and the grass became short in the
pasture Johnnie Green no longer turned Twinkleheels out to graze. He
kept him in a stall in the barn and fed him oats and hay three times a
day.
It was at that time that Johnnie Green made an interesting discovery. A

row of currant bushes grew behind the barn. And one day when Johnnie
stripped off a few stems of the red fruit and stood in the back door of
the barn, eating it, he happened to snap a currant at Twinkleheels.
The result both pleased and surprised him. When the currant struck
Twinkleheels he laid back his ears, dropped his head, and let fly with
both hind feet.
Johnnie Green promptly forgot that he had intended to eat those
currants. One by one he threw them at Twinkleheels. It made no
difference where they hit the pony. Whenever he felt one, he kicked.
Sometimes he kicked only the air; sometimes his feet crashed against
the side of his stall.
Throwing currants at Twinkleheels became one of Johnnie Green's
favorite sports. Whenever boys from neighboring farms came to play
with him, Johnnie was sure to entertain them by taking them out behind
the barn to show them how high he could make Twinkleheels kick.
As a mark of special favor, Johnnie would sometimes let his friends
flick a few currants at his pet. And sometimes they would even pelt the
old horse Ebenezer, who stood in the stall next to Twinkleheels. There
was little fun in that, however. Ebenezer refused to kick. The first
currant generally brought him out of a doze, with a start. But after that
he wouldn't budge, except perhaps to turn his head and look with a
bored expression at the boys in the doorway.
Johnnie Green and his friends were not alone in enjoying this sport.
Old dog Spot joined them when he could. Unfortunately, when
Twinkleheels kicked, old Spot always wanted to bark. And Johnnie
didn't like noise at such times. He and his friends were always
amazingly quiet when they were engaged in currant throwing behind
the barn. And they were always peering about as if they didn't want to
be caught there.
"Run out to the barn and tell your father that dinner's almost ready,"
Mrs. Green said to Johnnie one day.

"He's not in the barn," Johnnie answered.
"Are you sure?" Mrs. Green asked. "I thought I heard him hammering
out there a few minutes ago."
"No!" Johnnie murmured. "Father's in the hayfield."
"That's queer," said his mother. "I was sure I heard hammering.... Well,
blow the horn, then! I don't want dinner to spoil."
So Johnnie Green blew several loud blasts on the horn. And he was
glad to do it, for it gave him an excuse for having a red face.
He threw no more currants at Twinkleheels that day. Somehow it didn't
seem just the wisest thing to do. But the next morning he made
Twinkleheels kick a few times. "It's really good for him," Johnnie tried
to make himself believe. "He needs the exercise."

VI
PICKING CURRANTS
If there was one sort of work that Johnnie Green had always