He looked me all over as if to
say: "Are you a good dog, and will you treat me kindly, or are you a bad
one like Bruno, and will you chase me and snap at my heels and worry me,
so that I shall want to kick you?"
I looked at him very earnestly and wagged my body, and lifted myself on
my hind legs toward him. He seemed pleased and put down his nose to
sniff at me, and then we were friends. Friends, and such good friends,
for next to Jim and Billy, I have loved Fleetfoot.
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.
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