Pickles was conducting the party, for he had an uncle in the circus business, who had told him all about the great American show. So he was expected to explain everything to the other two.
Freckles had come down to the yards partly because of his great love for horses, a love that he had not been able to fully indulge. True, he had ridden the colt up in the pasture at the poor-farm, until he could ride like a monkey, but this had been on the sly. For Mr. Perkins, the keeper of the farm, was a rather stern man, and he did not approve of Freckles running the colt up and down the lot half the time, as he would have liked to do. Besides, the colt was just an ordinary horse. Freckles loved him more than any other animal in the whole world, but he was a rusty brown and his mane and tail were not heavy nor luxuriant. His boyish heart yearned for a real beautiful, prancing, dancing steed that would race with him until he dropped.
