A Little Hero

“Oh dear! I 1) was/wash I could be of them,” said Tom to himself. He had been reading a book about 2) knight/night and heroes, who rode through the wood slaying and setting beautiful princess free. “Wouldn’t it have been so fun to wear helmet and armor, 3) carrying/crying a long lance, and ride a splendid horse? But there are no dragon nowadays, and knight wear black coat like other men. I wish I had lived a long ago!”

Tom was just an everyday boy and rather short for his age. The sun was shining brightly into the room; and the 4)lives/leaves were peeping shyly and whispering softly as if wanted to say, “Never mind about old heroes or wicked dragon! Come out and play.”

From jumped from his 5) sit/seat, put up his cap and set off down the road towards the village on his bicycle. In the village it was the quietest hour of the day. There was not a living thing to be seen except at a far 6) and/end of the street, a nursemaid with a mail-cart, and a small child trotting by her side.

All at once, away in the distance, Tom caught sight of a horse coming toward him at a gallop. There was no 7) reader/rider on his back. Just then, the child stepped off the pavement to cross the street, right in the 8) path/pad of the horse. The nursemaid was looking in at a shop window, and so did miss the little girl from her side.

The horse was coming near. If it were not stopped, it 9) wood would knock down the little girl and there was no body to help her except Tom. Without waiting a moment, the brave lad 10) road/rode on at full speed. It was race now between run-away horse and brave boy; and the boy 11) won’t/won. For just at 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 down Tom, and trampled over the bicycle as it set off again on its wild race. The nursemaid, who was 12) no now in a 13) great/greet fight, first scolded and then petted the child, until she sobbed. But there was no one to notice the brave boy, who limped home slowly and in 14) pain/pen. His face was hurt, his clothes was torn, and he dragged his broken bicycle –that only a few week before had been new –end the15) price/pride of his heart.

Tom did not get a 16) pedal/medal for his brave actions. As Tom’s mother 17) robbed/rubbed his stiff shoulder, and smeared some ointment on his scratched cheeks, she looked at him with wet eyes, then she smoothed his rough hair with her soft hand, kissed him, and called him her own dear little hero.