Friends, and such good friends, for next to Jim and Billy, I have loved Fleetfoot.
Mr.Harry pulled some lumps of sugar out of his pocket, and giving them to Miss Laura, told her to put them on the palm of her hand and hold it out flat toward Fleetfoot.

The colt ate the sugar, and all the time eyed her with his quiet, observing glance, that made her exclaim: "What wise-looking colt!" "He is like an old horse," said Mr.Harry, "When he hears a sudden noise, he stops and looks all about him to find an explanation." "He has been well trained," said Miss Laura.
"I have brought him up carefully," said Mr.Harry.

"Really, he has been treated more like a dog than a colt.

He follows me about the farm and smells everything I handle, and seems to want to know the reason of things." "Your mother says," replied Miss Laura, "that she found you both asleep on the lawn one day last summer, and the colt's head was on your arm." Mr.Harry smiled and threw his arm over the colt's neck.

"We've been comrades, haven't we, Fleetfoot?
I've been almost ashamed of his devotion.