nose barely poked out of his shell, and his eyes, with the skin
dropped over them, just showing. He had some tricks: he would snap at a
stick if you teased him with it, and would let you lift him up by it.
That was a good deal of pleasure.

But all these were trifling joys, except maybe Tip and Nanny, compared
with the pony which the boys owned in common, and which was the greatest
thing that ever came into their lives. I cannot tell just how their
father came to buy it for them, or where he got it; but I dare say he
thought they were about old enough for a pony, and might as well have
one. It was a Mexican pony, and as it appeared on the scene just after
the Mexican war, some volunteer may have brought it home. One volunteer
brought home a Mexican dog, that was smooth and hairless, with a skin
like an elephant, and that was always shivering round with the cold; he
was not otherwise a remarkable dog, and I do not know that he ever felt
even the warmth of friendship among the boys; his manners were reserved
and his temper seemed doubtful. But the pony never had any trouble with
the climate of Southern Ohio (which is indeed hot enough to fry a
salamander in summer); and though his temper was no better than other
ponies', he was perfectly approachable. I mean that he was approachable
from the side, for it was not well to get where he could bite you or
kick you. He was of a bright sorrel color, and he had a brand on one
haunch. My boy had an ideal of a pony, conceived from pictures in his
reading-books at school, that held its head high and arched its neck,
and he strove by means of checks and martingales to make this real pony
conform to the illustrations. But it was of no use; the real pony held
his neck straight out like a ewe, or, if reined up, like a camel, and he
hung his big head at the end of it with no regard whatever for the
ideal. His caparison was another mortification and failure. What the
boy wanted was an English saddle, embroidered on the morocco seat in
crimson silk, and furnished with shining steel stirrups. What he had was
the framework of a Mexican saddle, covered with rawhide, and cushioned
with a blanket; the stirrups were Mexican too, and clumsily fashioned
out of wood. The boys were always talking about getting their father to
get them a pad, but they never did it, and they managed as they could
with the saddle they had. For the most part they preferred to ride the
pony barebacked, for then they could