Walking toward the creek, sore in body and spirit, I fully made up my
mind to have a talk with that colt that he would not soon forget. He
had put shame upon me, and I determined to tell him so. But when I
came upon him looking so lamblike in his innocence, and when I
imagined that I heard him chuckle at my plight, my resolution
evaporated, and I realized that in a trial of wits he had got the
better of me. Moreover, I conceded right there that he had a right
to laugh, and especially when he saw me so superlatively scrambled.
He had beaten me on my own ground and convicted me of knowing less
than a horse, so I could but yield the palm to him with what grace I
could command. Many a time since that day have I been unhorsed, and
by a mere boy who laughed at my discomfiture. But I learned my
lesson from Dick and have always tried, though grimly, to applaud the
victor in the tournament of wits. Only so could I hold the respect
of the boy, not to mention my own. If a boy sets a trap for me and I
walk into it, well, if he doesn't laugh at me he isn't much of a boy;
and if I can't laugh with him I am not much of a schoolmaster.
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