ue
Jimmie, and he was having fun guiding Peter.

Then Jimmie rather lost his head. Had he kept still, Peter would probably
have ambled gently about the meadow, perhaps turned into the road that
led to the house and barn, and Sunny's adventure might have been a very
mild one. But Jimmie was frightened, and in his fear he did the one thing
that could have brought about what he feared. He leaped the fence and
came running toward the horse.

"Gid-ap, Peter! Go 'long! Hurry!" Sunny slapped the strap smartly across
old Peter's neck.

That easy-going horse was not used to such treatment, and he broke into a
trot. Jimmie began to shout and wave his arms. Then Peter broke into a
gallop, taking great, long easy strides that seemed to cover miles of
ground to Sunny's excited eyes.

"You kind of bump!" he gasped, as the horse galloped on. "I
wonder--will--I--fall off!"

Peter snorted. He had forgotten how it felt to be running free, and
perhaps he was pretending he was a young colt again. He paid no more
attention to the small boy on his back than if Sunny Boy had been a fly.

Around and around the field they tore. Jimmie's shouts had brought
Grandpa, and together the two watched in terrible anxiety.

"I'd get on Paul and chase 'em, but Peter can outrun him any day!" Jimmie
almost sobbed. "Say! I know what will do it. You wait, sir."

He ran up to the barn and came back with a peck measure of corn. Paul saw
the long yellow ears and whinnied with pleasure.

"You don't get any," Jimmie informed him. "Lucky they hadn't had their
dinner," he said to Grandpa. He stood out from the fence and rattled the
measure invitingly, and whistled.

Now Peter was not a colt, however much he might enjoy pretending, and he
was getting tired of his gallop. Also he was hungry, and he had heard
Paul whinny. So when Jimmie whistled, the old, familiar whistle he always
gave when he came in the barn at feeding time, Peter turned and stared.
Yes, there he stood, down at the other end of the field, and yes, he had
corn with him.

Peter slowed down to a gentle run, then to a half trot, and finally came
walking at his usual gentle gait straight up to Jimmie and Grandpa.

"Sunny, Sunny, what will you do next?" groaned Grandpa, lifting him down.
"I hope your mother didn't see this--she would be frightened to death."

"It didn't hurt me," urged Sunny Boy, beginning to wonder if he had done
wrong. "I is bumped a little, but I wasn't afraid, Grandpa.