Farmer Green had a yoke of oxen called Bright and Broad. They were huge,
slow-moving fellows, as different from Johnnie Green's pony,
Twinkleheels, as any pair could be. They never frisked about in the
pasture. They never ran, nor jumped, nor kicked. They seldom even
trotted. And when they did move faster than a walk they lurched into a
queer, shambling swing.
The first time Twinkleheels saw them travelling at that gait he couldn't
help giggling.
"They look as if their legs were going to knock down all the fence posts
on the farm," he exclaimed.
Despite their clumsiness, Bright and Broad did many a day's hard work in
an honest fashion for Farmer Green. Of course he never drove them to the
village when he was in a hurry. But whenever there was a heavy load to
pull he depended on Bright and Broad to help him. If the pair of bays
couldn't haul a wagon out of a mud hole Farmer Green would call on
Bright and Broad. And when they lunged forward the wagon just had to
move--or something broke.
Though Twinkleheels admired their strength, he didn't care much for
Bright and Broad's company. They were too sober to suit him. They were
more than likely to stand and chew their cuds and look out upon the
world with vacant stares and say nothing.
"I used to think Ebenezer was a slow old horse," Twinkleheels remarked
to the bays on a winter's day as they stood in the barn. "I thought I
could beat him easily until he showed me that I was mistaken. But I can
certainly beat Bright and Broad. They're the slowest pair I ever saw."
The bays glanced at each other.
"You can't always tell by a person's looks what he can do," one of them
remarked. "Let Bright and Broad choose the race course and they'd leave
you behind."
"Nonsense!" Twinkleheels cried. "They couldn't beat anybody unless it's
Timothy Turtle, who lives over in Black Creek."
The bays winked at each other over the low partition that separated
their stalls.
"Maybe you'll find out that you're wrong," they told Twinkleheels.
"Maybe you'll learn that Bright and Broad are faster than you think they
are. We've known Farmer Green to take them and leave us here in the
barn--when he was in a hurry to go somewhere, too."
"Ha! ha!" Twinkleheels laughed. "You're joking. You're trying to fool
me."
"Oh, no!" the bays cried. "Ask Bright and Broad themselves."
So Twinkleheels spoke to Bright and Broad the very next day, when he met
them in the barnyard. While he told them what the bays had said to him
they chewed their cuds and listened with a dreamy look in their great,
mild eyes.
Twinkleheels paused and waited for them to speak. But they said nothing.
Their jaws moved steadily as they chewed; but they said never a word.
"Can't you answer when you're spoken to?" Twinkleheels cried at last.
"Yes!" they said, speaking as one--for they always did everything
together. "Yes! But you haven't asked us a question."
"Is this true--what the bays told me about you?" he snapped.
"We can't deny it," they chanted.
Twinkleheels was never more surprised.