I never could like that boy Norman; I thought him both cowardly and conceited. I could not forget that he had killed my friend, the poor dog, Jenny. One day, when he came to my mistress’s house on a visit, he insisted on riding on my back. “Now,” thought I to myself, “I’ll have my revenge.”

Just beyond the garden there was a wood, and beyond the wood there was a very deep and dirty ditch, generally full to the brim with mud. Norman had been boasting what an excellent rider he was, and invited the others to come with him through the wood to see him jump the ditch. They all came, though they did not believe he could do it.

Scarcely had they started, Norman on my back, and the others running by my side along the path through the wood, when I threw up my heels and dashed aside from the path into the bushes. “All right,” shouted Norman, “you run on by the path as far as the ditch, and see whether I don’t jump it before you get there.”

“Oh, you will?” I said to myself. I went quietly along for a little way, where the bushes were thin and fairly far apart, and then, without any warning, I plunged right into a thicket of brambles. My skin is tough, so I didn’t mind them, but Norman’s face and hands and stockinged legs were scratched, and the thorns stuck into his clothes from head to foot. He was a nice object by the time we got to the ditch: he had quite given up his boastful idea of jumping over it, and did all he could to make me stop and let him get off my back.

“Not if I know it,” thought I. “I shall never get such a chance again of punishing you for shooting Jenny;” so I galloped along the edge of the ditch, and when I had reached a very steep and slippery place, I suddenly stopped short, and jerked Norman off my back. He was unable to gain his footing, and pitched headlong into the thick, black mud.

Just then the other children came racing down the path; but what was their surprise and alarm to find me looking into the ditch, and Norman nowhere to be seen.

“Norman! Norman!” they shouted, “where are you?”

“Here—oh, help!” said a half-stifled voice at last. They looked into the ditch, and there was Norman, half drowned in mud; he was on his feet again, and was standing on the bottom of the ditch; but it was nearly five feet deep, and the mud was up to his neck. “Help me out! oh, help me out! I shall be drowned!”

Norman’s screams attracted the attention of two farm-hands who were passing near at hand, and they ran up to see what was the matter. In a few minutes they had got a long pole and had let one end down into the ditch so that Norman could catch hold of it. Then the men pulled slowly at the other end of the pole, and at last Norman managed to scramble out. He was covered with mud, and his teeth were chattering with cold and fright. I began to be sorry for what I had done, and kept behind the children, who were hurrying Norman home as fast as he could go.

I heard the next day that Norman was very ill; he was obliged to stay in bed. The doctor was afraid he was going to have a bad fever, and be ill a long while. He shook his head when the children went to inquire after Norman, and advised my mistress not to let the children ride me at present, until Norman was better, and could tell them how the accident had happened.

I knew it was not an accident, and began to be much afraid in consequence of what I had done. When Norman got well enough to tell them all about it, and how badly I had behaved, they all looked at me very seriously.

The next morning, when Robert, the stableman, came as usual to fetch me to be saddled, and to take Jack and Janie for a ride, he said nothing to me, but, to my great alarm, groomed and saddled the other donkey that lived in the stable. In a few minutes Jack came in at the door, his face very sad, and his eyes full of tears.

“Neddy,” he said, “I’m very, very sorry, but grandma won’t let me ride you any more. She’s afraid you’ll be naughty again, and kick me off, as you did poor Norman. Oh, Neddy dear, how could you do it?”

I was dreadfully upset by this, and wanted to explain to Jack that it was because I hated Norman, and that I shouldn’t think of doing it to him, or Janie, or anybody else whom I loved, and who was kind to me. But I didn’t know how to say this to Jack, so I only drooped my head, and touched his shoulder with my nose.

“Mind, Master Jack,” said Robert, “don’t let that vicious donkey touch you. Perhaps he’ll bite you. Come away, my lad, directly,” and Robert seized Jack by the hand, and pulled him away.

“Yes, the horrid brute!” said Teddy, who, with the others, had come to the stable door. “Of course, Norman isn’t always nice, but Neddy had no business to try to drown him. I’ll take good care that I have nothing more to do with such a donkey.”

“And I, too,” said Dick, and so said all the others. Jack looked very sorrowful, but as Robert put him on the other donkey’s back and led him away he looked round and said to me in his usual kind little voice:—

“Poor, poor Neddy! Never mind, I’ll always love you just the same, though I mustn’t ride you any more, and perhaps some day you’ll be good again, won’t you, dear Neddy?”

I could have cried when I heard this. It was more than I could bear. As soon as Jack was gone, I crept out of the stable, and made my way into the fields. Then I lay down and thought of all the wicked things I had done in my life: how I had knocked my first mistress down, and broken her nose; how I had deceived the farmer, and how revengeful and evil I had been when he punished me for my deceit. I thought of all the happy life I had led in my present home, and how very, very kind they had all been to me until I had done this wicked thing to Norman. Norman had killed poor Jenny, it is true; but then he didn’t do it on purpose, and his father had punished him for it; what business had I to give way to feelings of revenge? I thought of dear little Janie and Jack, and how good and kind they had been to me when I was ill; and when I remembered that, owing to my wickedness, they were not to be allowed to ride me any more, I felt so unhappy that I could not keep still any longer. I began to run as hard as I could, trying to run away from myself, but the faster I ran, the more miserable I was, until at last I ran my head right up against a stone wall, and fell down senseless.

When I came to myself it was late in the afternoon, and I couldn’t tell where I was. Three people were sitting a little way off by the roadside, but as their backs were turned they didn’t see me. What was my astonishment to recognize in them the owner of the performing donkey Muffles, with his wife and son! They looked unhappy and hungry, and I learned from what they said that poor Muffles had been badly hurt by the crowd that day at the fair, and that they had been obliged to leave him for a time with a kind farmer who offered to turn him out to grass in his field, while they went about looking for a little work to keep them alive until Muffles was once more well enough to perform at fairs.

When I heard all this, I felt still more unhappy, for it was all my fault that Muffles had been hurt, and the showman’s family forced to go hungry because they had no money to buy food. Then I suddenly remembered that little Jack hoped I would some day turn good again. “I can begin to be good again this very minute,” thought I. “I can follow these people to the next village, and earn some money for them by performing tricks.” So I jumped up, and trotted behind them until they stopped at the door of a little inn to ask the host if he would let them stay there that night. They said they had no money to pay for a night’s lodging, but perhaps he could give them some work to do instead. The host shook his head, and said that he had plenty of people in his house to do all his work, and that the showman must go somewhere else.

Just as they were turning sorrowfully away from the door, I trotted up, bowed to the innkeeper, and then stood up on my hind legs and began to dance. I did several of the tricks that Muffles was accustomed to do, and I did them so gracefully that quite a large crowd collected. At last I thought it was time to make the collection, so I picked up the showman’s hat in my teeth and took it round to everybody in the crowd. Before I had finished my round the hat was so full of money that I had to empty it into the showman’s hands, and when he came to count his gains there proved to be nearly ten dollars. So the showman and his wife and boy were able to have a good supper and a night’s lodging at the inn, and they gave me a supper and a night’s lodging in the stable.

In the morning I followed them to the next place, and we gave two or three performances in different parts of the town; so that before dinner-time I had earned for the showman no less than sixteen dollars, and then I thought I had atoned for my unkindness to him on the day of the fair, and that I would go back and try to show Jack that I was now good.

I soon found the right road, and reached the house in the afternoon when everything was quiet, and all the people indoors at tea. Just as I came up to the high wall of the kitchen garden, on my way to the stable, I saw a tramp trying to climb over it, doubtless intending to steal things out of the garden. I made a jump, caught the tramp’s foot in my mouth, and pulled him down. He called out for help, but in another moment he fell, hitting his head, and lay still. At this moment another tramp came running up; I gave him a kick as he passed me, and stretched him flat by his friend. The second tramp howled so loudly that all the servants came running out of the house to see what was the matter. I was still standing over the tramps, ready to kick them if they offered to get up. When they were questioned, their replies were so suspicious that they were taken into the house, and the police sent for.

So I had saved my good mistress’s garden, and perhaps several other people’s houses, from being robbed. They were all so pleased with my intelligence that they said I should be forgiven for my past wickedness, and that the bigger boys should ride me for a time; and if they found me always gentle and quiet, then perhaps they would let Janie and Jack ride me as before.

To crown all, I heard in a few days that Norman was nearly well again, and that he bore me no ill-will, for he said I must have seen something or other in the path, perhaps a toad, or a piece of paper, that frightened me and made me run away. How dreadfully ashamed of myself I felt when I heard this! After all, Norman seemed a much better and more generous boy than I had at first imagined him to be. At any rate, he was not revengeful.