Bacalah teks berikut“ Oh dear! I wish I could be one of them,” said Tom to himself. He had been reading a book about knights and heroes, who rode through the woods slaying dragons and setting beautiful princesses free. Wouldn’t it have been so much fun to wear a helmet and armour, carrying a long lance, and riding a splendid horse! But there are no dragons nowadays, and knights wear black coats like other men. I wish I had lived long ago!”.

Tom was just an everyday boy, rather short for his age and someone stout. His hair was red and stiff, and his frank, jolly face was freckled all over.

The sun was shining brightly into the room and the leaves were peeping shyly and whispering softly, as if to say, “Never mind about all heroes or wicked dragons! Come out and play.”

Tom jumped from his seat, put on his cap and set off down the road toward the village, as fast as he could spin the wheels of his bicycle. In the village it was the quietest hour of the day. Shopkeepers were taking their early tea and school children had gone off to play in the fields. There was not a living thing to be seen except, at the far end of the street, a nursemaid with a pram and a small child trotting by her side.

All at once, away in a distance, along the road, Tom caught sight of a horse galloping toward him, as if it was running a race with the wind. There was no rider on its back. Its eyes were staring, its side was panting, the bit had fallen from its mouth, and the reins were loose upon its hot neck. Just then the child stepped off the pavement to cross the street, right in the path of the horse. The nurse-maid was looking in at a shop window and so didn’t miss the little girl from her side.

The horse was coming closer. If it were not stopped, it would knock down the little girl. There was nobody to help her, except Tom. Without waiting a moment, the brave lad rode on at full speed on his bicycle. It was a race now between the run-away horse and the brave boy; and the boy won. For, just as the horse’s hoofs were coming down upon the little girl, Tom leaped off his bicycle, and pushed himself in front of her.

The horse turned aside for an instant, then reared and plunged. It knocked Tom down, and trampled his bicycle as it set off again on its wild race. The nursemaid, who was now in great fright, first scolded and then petted the child until she sobbed, but there was no one to notice the brave boy, who limped home slowly an in pain. His face was hurt, his clothes were torn, and he dragged his broken bicycle—the bicycle that only a few weeks before had been new and the pride of his heart.

“ It was nothing at all, Mother,” said Tom when he reached home. “ I couldn’t let the girl be trampled by a run-away horse, could I? Besides, there was nobody else.” This was all that Tom told his mother. But mothers know many things about their little boys and girls that the boys and girls do not always care to tell.

Tom did not get a medal for his brave action and there was not a word about it in the newspaper. That very evening, however, his father took the bicycle to the village to be mended. As Tom’s mother rubbed his stiff shoulder and smeared some ointment on his scratched cheeks, she looked at him with wet eyes. But Tom thought there was a smile not far behind then tears. Then she smoothed his rough hair with her soft hand, kissed him, and called him her own dear little hero

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