d short just as he was going to say White Legs, for
there was something in the cob's face that he liked, and the little
horse had let him stroke its velvet nose.

"Poor old Dick has taken a fancy to him," he said to himself; "and the
other will do just as well for me."

"Let Dick choose first," he said aloud.

"Very well," said Mr Rogers. "Now then, Dick, which is it to be?
though you can't be wrong, my boy, for there is not a pin to choose
between them, and they are brothers."

"Should you mind if I chose first, Jack?" asked Dick.

"Not a bit," said Jack, stoutly, though his feeling of disappointment
was keen, for he felt now that he would dearly love to have the
white-legged cob.

You may guess then his delight when Dick declared for the black-legged
one.

As soon as he heard the decision Jack had his arm over the white-legged
cob's neck and had given it a hug, the horse looking at him with its
great soft eyes, and uttering a low snort.

"Up with you then, my boys, and have a canter."

"Without a saddle, father?" said Dick, nervously.

Jack was already up.

"Have it saddled if you like, my boy," said Mr Rogers, kindly.

But Dick flushed, gave a spring from the ground, and was on the little
cob's back.

They were both skilled riders, but Dick's illness made him timorous at
times. He, however, fought hard to master his weakness; and when Jack
cried, "Come on, Dick; let's race to the big tree and back," he stuck
his knees into the cob's plump sides and away they went, with the wind
rushing by their ears, and the cobs keeping neck and neck, rounding the
big tree about a mile away on the plain, and then making the dusty earth
rise in clouds as they tore back, and were checked with a touch of the
bridle by the home field.

"Why, Dick, my boy, I would not wish to see a better seat on a horse,"
cried Mr Rogers, patting the cobs in turn. "Jack, you set up your back
like a jockey. Sit more upright, my boy."

"All right, father; I'll try," said Jack, throwing himself right forward
so as to hug his cob's neck. "But I say, father, isn't he lovely? I
felt all the time as if I was a bit of him, or we were all one."

"You looked like it, my boy," said Mr Rogers, smiling in his son's
animated face. "I wish Dick had your confidence, and you a little more
of his style."

"All right, father, we'll try and exchange a bit a-piece," laughed Jack.
"But I can't half believe it, father, that these are to be our own