with annoyance, and tried to stamp her foot, but only
shook the stirrup, and sat still for a few moments, before trying
cajolery.

"The pony's quite quiet now, Dummy," she said gently. "Let him have his
head again--there's a good boy."

Dummy shook his own, and Mary bit her red lip, and made it scarlet.

"But I shouldn't like to be seen led up home like this, Dummy," she said
softly. "It looks as if I can't ride."

"Every one knows you can ride beautiful, mistress."

"But please let go now."

"Nay: won't."

"I'll give you some money, Dummy."

"Wouldn't for two donkey panniers full o' gold--there!" cried the lad.
"Come on."

This to the pony, and then the boy checked the cob.

"That your whip, mistress?" he said, turning and wagging his head
sidewise towards where, half-a-dozen yards down the steep slope, the
whip lay, where Ralph had kicked it on to a clump of brambles.

"Yes, yes; get it for me, please," cried the girl eagerly.

Dummy drew his arm from the pony's rein, leaped off the shelf path, and
lowered himself step by step toward the whip; and the girl, after
waiting a few seconds, with her eyes flashing with satisfaction, shook
the rein, kicked at her steed's ribs, and did all she could to urge it
forward.

"Go on--go on!" she whispered sharply. Then, as this was of no avail,
she began to saw the bit to and fro in its mouth, but only made the
animal swing its head from side to side in response to each drag,
keeping all four legs planted out firmly like a mule's, and obstinately
refusing to move.

"Oh, you wicked wretch!" cried the girl angrily; "go on--go on!"

At the first efforts she made to force the pony on and leave him behind,
Dummy turned sharply, and made a bound to catch at the rein; but as soon
as he grasped the stubborn creature's mood--knowing its nature by
heart--he chuckled softly, and went on down to where the whip lay,
recovered it as deliberately as he could, and began to climb the slope
again.

"It aren't no good, Miss Mary," he said; "he won't go till I get back to
his head."

"Go on--go on, sir!" cried the girl angrily, as she saw her last chance
of escape dying away; and then, hardly able to restrain the tears of
vexation, for Dummy climbed back on to the track, went to his old place
by the pony's head, and handed her the whip.

Mary snatched it in an instant, and struck the pony a sharp blow, which,
instead of making it leap forward, had the opposite effect; for it