Mr. Harry pulled some lumps of sugar out of his pocket, and giving them to Miss Laura, told her to put them on the palm of her hand and hold it out flat toward Fleetfoot.  The colt ate the sugar, and all the time eyed her with his quiet, observing glance, that made her exclaim:  “What a wise-looking colt!”

“He is like an old horse,” said Mr. Harry.  “When he hears a sudden noise, he stops and looks all about him to find an explanation.”

“He has been well trained,” said Miss Laura.

“I have brought him up carefully,” said Mr. Harry.  “Really, he has been treated more like a dog than a colt.  He follows me about the farm and smells everything I handle, and seems to want to know the reason of things.

“Your mother says,” replied Miss Laura. “that she found you both asleep on the lawn one day last summer, and the colt’s head was on your arm.”

Mr. Harry smiled and threw his arm over the colt’s neck.  “We’ve been comrades, haven’t we, Fleetfoot?  I’ve been almost ashamed of his devotion.  He has followed me to the village, and he always wants to go fishing with me.  He’s four years old now, so he ought to get over those coltish ways.  I’ve driven him a good deal.  We’re going out in the buggy this afternoon, will you come?”

“Where are you going?” asked Miss Laura.

“Just for a short drive back of the river, to collect some money for father.  I’ll be home long before tea time.”

“Yes, I should like to go,” said Miss Laura, “I will go to the house and get my other hat.”

“Come on, Fleetfoot,” said Mr. Harry.  And he led the way from the pasture, the colt following behind with me.  I waited about the veranda, and in a short time Mr. Harry drove up to the front door.  The buggy was black and shining, and Fleetfoot had on a silver-mounted harness that made him look very fine.  He stood gently switching his long tail to keep the flies away, and with his head turned to see who was going to get into the buggy.  I stood by him, and as soon as he saw that Miss Laura and Mr. Harry had seated themselves, he acted as if he wanted to be off.  Mr. Harry spoke to him and away he went, I racing down the lane by his side, so happy to think he was my friend.  He liked having me beside him, and every few seconds put down his head toward me.  Animals can tell each other things without saying a word.  When Fleetfoot gave his head a little toss in a certain way, I knew that he wanted to have a race.  He had a beautiful even gait, and went very swiftly.  Mr. Harry kept speaking to him to check him.

“You don’t like him to go too fast, do you?” said Miss Laura.