It was a most persuasive whistle, soft and thrilling and the horse raised his head, looked contemplatively out of large lustrous eyes at the whistler.

Obed advanced, still whistling, in the most wonderful, enticing manner.

Ned felt that if he were a horse he could not resist it, that he would go to the whistler, expecting to receive oats, corn, and everything else that a healthy horse loves.

It seemed to have some such effect upon the quarry that Obed coveted, because the horse, after withdrawing a step, advanced toward the man.
Obed stopped, but continued to whistle, pouring forth the most beautiful and winning trills and quavers.

The horse came and Obed, reaching out, seized the bridle which hung loose.