CHAPTER X.

A HEAVY TROUBLE.


"Thank you, ma'am, that's a tip-top book, 'specially the pictures. But
I can't bear to see these poor fellows," and Ben brooded over the fine
etching of the dead and dying horses on a battle-field, one past all
further pain, the other helpless but lifting his head from his dead
master to neigh a farewell to the comrades who go galloping away in a
cloud of dust.

"They ought to stop for him, some of 'em," muttered Ben, hastily
turning back to the cheerful picture of the three happy horses in the
field, standing knee-deep among the grass as they prepare to drink at
the wide stream.

"Aint that black one a beauty? Seems as if I could see his mane blow in
the wind, and hear him whinny to that small feller trotting down to
see if he can't get over and be sociable. How I'd like to take a
rousin' run round that meadow on the whole lot of 'em," and Ben swayed
about in his chair as if he was already doing it in imagination.

"You may take a turn round my field on Lita any day. She would like it,
and Thorny's saddle will be here next week," said Miss Celia, pleased
to see that the boy appreciated the fine pictures, and felt such hearty
sympathy with the noble animals whom she dearly loved herself.

"Needn't wait for that. I'd rather ride bare-back. Oh, I say, is this
the book you told about where the horses talked?" asked Ben, suddenly