“You bet I am,” was the enthusiastic answer.,
Bob—that was the horse’s name—knew Johnny whenever he went into the stable; there was no doubt about that, for the little horse would turn around in his stall and whinny at the sound of the boy’s step or voice. Of course Johnny always had sugar for him and brushed his pretty coat for him every day—dear, cunning little Bob!,
Bob’s first feeling was of his own littleness, his unimportance in the face of such magnitude. But this went away as the sun, dropping steadily to the opposite horizon, began to paint the scenes with magic colors..
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