Season of Ponies Read Online Free PDF Page A

together, as though ready to spring away.
    Pamela stood frozen with wonder. Surprise and delight tumbled over each other in her mind. For a long, long moment Pamela and the pony gazed at each other in silence. Then the pony moved towards her. Pamela watched, breathless, fascinated by the beauty of its motion. The pony advanced until it was able to touch her gently on the shoulder with its velvet nose. Then slowly, gracefully, it tucked in a dainty hoof and sank down on one bent foreleg.
    Like one in a dream, Pamela climbed onto the pony’s back. It turned its head and looked at her, as if to be sure she was ready, and then gently stood up.
    Out through the open corral door at the back of the barn and up the hill, the pony went. Pamela had ridden horses before, but she had felt nothing like the lovely flowing motion of this gray-white pony. The coarseness of other horses’ manes were nothing like the clouds of smoky gray that blew back against her arms and face.
    At the crest of the hill, the pony began to gallop. Pamela had no saddle or bridle, but she wound her hands in the soft gray mane and rode the gallop easily.
    It was such a marvelous feeling to gallop so swiftly and smoothly along the top of the hill, that Pamela was too happy even to wonder where they were going.
    Suddenly the pony turned sharply and plunged down the hillside. Now they were among high oaks and evergreens, and the pony picked its way around graceful green ferns and dense underbrush. The forest grew thicker and thicker until Pamela had to lie flat to keep from being lashed by the branches.
    Her face was hidden in the pony’s mane when suddenly she heard a voice saying, “Good girl! Nimbus.”
    She sat up with a start and found herself in a clearing surrounded by thick forest. And just in front of the pony’s nose stood the boy.
    The boy walked around to the side of the pony and looked at Pamela deliberately. “I don’t suppose you brought anything to eat?” he asked.
    Pamela remembered the cookies in her pocket. Wordlessly she held them out.
    “Perfect!” said the boy. He sat down on the grass and began to eat. Pamela stared at him.
    He’s all brown and gold, she thought. His hair needs cutting and his clothes look as if he made them himself. He hasn’t any shoes and ...and he must be awfully hungry.
    The boy was stuffing the cookies into his mouth. He glanced up at Pamela. “Are you going to get off, or just sit there staring?” His dark eyes were laughing. They were strange eyes that slanted up at the edges; untamed eyes, cocky and full of mischief, like a yearling colt untrained to even a halter. “Down, Nimbus!” he said.
    The gray-white pony knelt quickly, and Pamela slid off onto the grass. The pony moved away and began grazing.
    The boy handed her a cookie. “Why were you crying the other day?” he asked.
    Pamela fished for her lost voice and found a shaky uncertain part of it. “I—I don’t know. I was sad,” she stammered. In her confusion, it didn’t even occur to her to wonder how the boy knew she had been crying.
    “What had They been doing to you?” he asked, frowning.
    “They? Who?”
    “I don’t know,” the boy said impatiently. “The ones you live with. That’s what I call most people, just They.”
    “Oh, nothing really. It wasn’t really anybody’s fault. I was just lonely.”
    “I thought so,” he nodded confidently. “That’s the way They always make you feel. Ponies are different. You can’t be lonely with ponies.” He motioned, and Pamela noticed for the first time that the clearing was full of ponies.
    “Oh, they’re beautiful,” she cried. “May I pet them? What are their names?”
    “Well, that gray mare that brought you is Nimbus. She’s the gentlest one. The tall blue one I ride is Cirro. He’s the leader of the herd.” The boy whistled between his fingers, and the biggest pony threw up his head and galloped to them. Right in front of Pamela, he reared, pawing the air. He pranced