sure of himself and more cautious, and it gave Sir Wilton confidence. It taught him that he, too, could fight. In fact a little of the Shetland-pony fighting spirit was born in him that day, so after that it was not so uneven a battle as it had been before.
He even went far into the hills with the rest of the wild Shetlands, most of whom were friendly enough. He was always on the watch for his enemy and they often had clashes, but these encounters were never so one-sided as they had been at first. Sometimes Sir Wilton tired of always being hounded and watched, and then he would turn and give his adversary a real battle. They would charge and retreat, kicking and biting at each other until one of them gave ground, and this was usually Dapple Dandy, for he was a thoroughbred. Breeding and luxury had taken something of the island fire out of him, so he was not really a match for his hardier kinsman, because he did not like to
