Ellen Tebbits by Beverly Cleary Read Free Book Online Page B

come.
    “Hey,” said Ellen anxiously. She pulled on the right rein, but Brownie kept on going.
    “Stop!” she ordered, more loudly this time.
    “What are you going that way for?” asked Austine, turning in her saddle.
    “Because the horse wants to,” said Ellen crossly.
    “Well, turn him around.”
    “I can’t,” said Ellen. “He won’t steer.” Austine turned Old Paint and drew up beside Ellen. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to hold both reins in one hand?” Austine was scornful.
    Ellen didn’t know. “I just held them this way to try to turn him,” she said. She took them in her left hand.They were so long she wound them around her hand.
    Austine leaned over and took hold of Brownie’s bridle with one hand.“Come on, Old Paint,” she said, and turned her horse forward again. Brownie followed.
    “Thanks,” said Ellen. “My, you’re brave.”
    “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Austine modestly. “You don’t steer a horse,” she added gently. “You guide him.”
    “Oh . . . I  forgot.” Ellen wondered how she would ever explain her ignorance to Austine. What would her best friend think when she found out how Ellen had misled her?
    The horses plodded on down the woodsy road. Through the trees the girls could see the highway and hear cars passing. Austine’s mother and father appeared around the bend, and Ellen began to feel brave again.
    “Let’s gallop,” suggested Austine.
    Ellen’s legs were beginning to ache.
    “How do you make them gallop?”
    “Dig your heels in,” said Austine.
    “Oh, I wouldn’t want to hurt the horse,” said Ellen.
    “You won’t hurt him, silly. Cowboys wear spurs, don’t they?”
    Ellen timidly prodded Brownie with her heels. Brownie ambled on.
    Austine dug in her heels. Old Paint began to trot. At first Austine bounced, but soon she rode smoothly.Then her horse began to gallop.
    When Old Paint galloped, Brownie began to trot. Ellen began to bounce. She hung on to the saddle horn as hard as she could. Still she bounced. Slap-slap-slap. Her bare legs began to hurt from rubbing against the leather of the saddle flap. Slap-slap-slap.
    Goodness, I sound awful, she thought. I hope Austine doesn’t hear me slapping this way.
    Austine’s horse, after galloping a few yards, slowed down to a walk. “Whoa, Old Paint,” cried Austine anyway, and pulled on the reins. Old Paint stopped and Austine panted a minute.
    “I did it, Ellen!” she called. “It was just a few steps, but I really, truly galloped. I hung on with my knees and galloped just like in the movies.”
    “Wh-wh-oa-oa!” Ellen’s voice was jarred out between bounces. Brownie trotted on.
    Slap-slap-slap.
    Austine began to laugh. “I can see trees between you and the saddle every time you go up. Oh, Ellen, you look so funny!” 
    Slap-slap-slap. Ellen didn’t think she could stand much more bouncing. It was worse than being spanked.
    “Ellen Tebbits! I don’t think you know a thing about horseback riding.”
    “Wh-wh-oa-oa!” When Brownie reached Old Paint he stopped. After Ellen got her breath, she gasped,“I do, too. It’s just that the other horses I rode were tamer.” The horses walked on until the road curved down to the edge of a stream.
    “Oh, look. There’s a bridge,” exclaimed Ellen, looking up.
    “I guess the highway crosses to the other side of the stream,” said Austine. “I wonder if the poor horses are thirsty.” There was no doubt about Brownie’s wanting a drink. He left the road and picked his way down the rocky bank to the water.
    “Poor horsie, you were thirsty,” said Ellen, patting his neck.

    But Brownie did not stop at the edge of the stream. He waded out into it.
    “Whoa,” yelled Ellen, above the rush of the water. “Austine, help!”
    Brownie waded on.
    “Austine! What’ll I do? He’s going swim-ming!”
    “Here, Brownie! Here, Brownie!” called Austine from the bank. Her voice sounded faint across the surging water.

    When Brownie