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.
"No," he returned. "I think we could make a racer of him if we liked,
but father and I don't go in for fast horses. There is too much said
about fast trotters and race horses. On some of the farms around here,
the people have gone mad on breeding fast horses. An old farmer out in
the country had a common cart-horse that he suddenly found out had great
powers of speed and endurance. He sold him to a speculator for a big
price, and it has set everybody wild. If the people who give all their
time to it can't raise fast horses, I don't see how the farmers can.
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