cident may give Sir Wilton a crooked fore-leg. It will not hurt him at all for a phaeton or saddle pony, but it rather takes the gilt off him for the ring, so I have been thinking that perhaps I ought to retire: both you and him—put you out to pasture, so to speak."
"What, him and me not to show any more?" cried Freckles, his fears returning in spite of himself.
"Yes, something of the sort," returned the owner deliberately.
Freckles had braced himself for what Mr. Bingham might have to say next, but, even so, he had not been prepared for the manager's proposition, which left him speechless and finally sent him sobbing into the manager's arms.
"Well," said Mr. Bingham, "I have decided, since you and Dapples think so much of each other, to give him to you and to send you both home to the United States. I think that would be a better life for you anyway. What do you say, boy?"
