Part 39 (1/2)
”It will do you good,” said Miles bluntly.
”You had better try it yourself, then,” retorted Peabody, with unwonted spirit.
”Good for you!” laughed Miles. ”I suspect you are not dead yet.”
”What made you put me on such a vicious beast?” asked Peabody of the owner.
”Solomon isn't vicious; he's only lazy,” said Chapman. ”We can't blame him much.”
”I think he ought to be shot,” said Peabody, painfully rising, and stretching out one limb after another to make sure that none was broken.
”You seem to be unlucky, Mr. Peabody,” said Tom.
”I'm always unlucky,” moaned Peabody.
”Will you ride again, Mr. Peabody?” asked Chapman. ”I'll catch Solomon for you, if you like.”
”Not for fifty dollars!” exclaimed Peabody energetically. ”It is as much as anybody's life is worth.”
”If you will make me the same offer, I won't refuse, Mr. Chapman,” said Tom.
”You can mount him, if you like.”
Tom waited for no second invitation. He approached Solomon cautiously, vaulted upon his back, and the animal, disagreeably surprised, had recourse to the same tactics which had proved so successful in the case of the young man from Boston. But he had a different kind of a rider to deal with. Tom had been accustomed to ride from the time he was six years of age, and he stuck to his seat in spite of all attempts to dislodge him. So far from feeling alarmed, he enjoyed the struggle.
”It's no go, Solomon!” he said gaily. ”You've tackled the wrong customer this time. Better make up your mind to go as I want you to.”
Solomon came to the same conclusion after a time. He had tried his ordinary tactics, and they had proved unavailing. The struggle had been witnessed with some interest by the other members of the company.
”You can ride, youngster; that's a fact,” said the owner of the donkey.
”I didn't say anything, but I rather expected to see you follow Peabody.”
”I'm used to riding,” said Tom modestly. ”Mr. Peabody is not.”
”Every lad ought to know how to ride,” said Ferguson. ”It's a deal manlier than smoking a cigar, to my thinking.”
”I can smoke a cigar,” said Peabody, desirous probably of appearing to possess one manly accomplishment.
”You will hardly find it as useful as riding in the new country you are going to, Mr. Peabody,” said Ferguson dryly.
”I'd give something for a good cigar myself,” said John Miles.
”I prefer riding,” said Tom. ”I never smoked a cigar in my life.”
”You are just as well off without it, my lad,” said the Scotchman. ”It don't do men any good, and always harms boys.”
Peabody never again mounted Solomon. One trial was sufficient, and, footsore and lame as he was, he decidedly preferred to walk.