o the
country. The ascent was pretty steep, the descent not so much so, and
Bert liked to walk his pony up to the top, and then canter down the
other side. One afternoon, just as he reached the summit, a little
street boy, probably by way of expressing the envy he felt for those who
could afford to ride, threw a stone at Sable, which struck him a
stinging blow on the hindquarters. Like an arrow from the bow, the pony
was off. Taking the bit in his teeth, and straightening his head out, he
went at full speed down the hill, Bert holding on for dear life with his
heart in his mouth, and his hat from his head.

In some way or other, he himself never knew exactly how, he got both his
feet out of the stirrups, and it was well for him he did, for just at
the bottom of the hill, when he was going like a greyhound, Sable
stopped short, lowered his head, flung up his heels, and, without the
slightest protest or delay, Bert went flying from the saddle, and landed
in the middle of the dusty road in a sitting posture with his legs
stretched out before him. The saucy pony paused just long enough to make
sure that his rider was disposed of beyond a doubt, and then galloped
away, apparently in high glee.

Bert was not hurt in the least. He had never sat down quite so
unexpectedly before, but the thick dust of the road made an excellent
cushion, and he was soon upon his feet, and in full cry after the
runaway. Thanks to a gentleman on horseback who had witnessed the whole
scene, and went immediately in chase of Sable, the latter was soon
recaptured, and Bert, having thanked his friend in need, and brushed
some of the dust from his clothes, remounted his mischievous steed, and
rode him for the rest of the afternoon.

After those two somewhat unpromising performances, Sable settled down
into very good habits, and during all the rest of the time that he was
in Bert's possession did not again disgrace himself by running away or
pitching anyone off his back. He never became the pet that Brownie had
been, but he was, upon the whole, a more useful animal, so that Bert
came to feel himself well compensated for his loss.

About this time Bert made the acquaintance of a pony of a very different
sort. How, indeed, it came to have this name does not seem to be very
clear, for what natural connection can be established between a
diminutive horse, and a discreditable method of reducing the
difficulties of a lesson in Latin or Greek? It would appe