diff options
Diffstat (limited to '78664-h/78664-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 78664-h/78664-h.htm | 3108 |
1 files changed, 3108 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/78664-h/78664-h.htm b/78664-h/78664-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3837525 --- /dev/null +++ b/78664-h/78664-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3108 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Adventures of Pony Dexter | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} +hr.double {width: 100%; border-top: 6px double; margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 0%;margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; + color: #A9A9A9; +} /* page numbers */ + +blockquote { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.fs70 {font-size: 70%} +.fs80 {font-size: 80%} +.fs90 {font-size: 90%} +.fs120 {font-size: 120%} +.fs150 {font-size: 150%} + +.no-indent {text-indent: 0em;} +.wsp {word-spacing: 0.3em;} +.lh {line-height: 1.5em;} + +p.drop-cap { + text-indent: 0em; +} +p.drop-cap:first-letter +{ + float: left; + margin: 0em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height:0.85em; +} + +.upper-case +{ + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +h2 {font-size: 130%; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.6em; word-spacing: .3em;} +.pageborder {width: 400px; border: 4px double; padding: 10px; margin: auto;} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp5 {width: 5%;} +.illowp25 {width: 25%;} +.illowp85 {width: 85%;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78664 ***</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 85%"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h1> +THE ADVENTURES OF PONY DEXTER +</h1> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter pageborder"> + <p class="center no-indent wsp"> + <span class="fs150">BOOKS FOR GIRLS</span> + <br> + <span class="fs120">By Laura E. Richards</span> + </p> +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="fs120 no-indent wsp"><em>The</em> MARGARET SERIES</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp5" id="002" style="max-width: 2.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/002.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="no-indent wsp"> + Three Margarets<br> + <span style="padding-left: 1.5em">Margaret Montfort</span><br> + <span style="padding-left: 3em">Peggy</span><br> + <span style="padding-left: 4.5em">Rita</span><br> + <span style="padding-left: 6em">Fernley House</span> +</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="no-indent fs120 wsp"><em>The</em> HILDEGARDE SERIES</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp5" id="002_2" style="max-width: 2.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/002.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="no-indent wsp"> + Queen Hildegarde<br> + <span style="padding-left: 1.5em">Hildegarde’s Holiday</span><br> + <span style="padding-left: 3em">Hildegarde’s Home</span><br> + <span style="padding-left: 4.5em">Hildegarde’s Neighbors</span><br> + <span style="padding-left: 6em">Hildegarde’s Harvest</span> +</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="center no-indent wsp fs120"> + DANA ESTES & COMPANY<br> + Publishers<br> + Estes Press, Summer St., Boston +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="frontispiece" style="max-width: 41.9375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + FOR A BRIEF SPACE WE SPED NECK TO NECK. + </figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter pageborder"> +<p class="center no-indent wsp"> + <span class="fs150">THE ADVENTURES</span><br> + <span class="fs150">OF PONY DEXTER</span><br> + <br> + <span class="fs90">BY</span><br> + HARRIET A. CHEEVER<br> + <br> + <span class="fs80">AUTHOR OF<br> + “THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF BILLY TRILL,”<br> + “MADAME ANGORA,” “LORD DOLPHIN,”<br> + “MOTHER BUNNY,” ETC.</span></p> + + <hr class="double"> +<br> + +<p class="center no-indent wsp"> + <span class="fs90">Illustrated by</span><br> + DIANTHA H. MARLOWE</p> + <br> + + <figure class="figcenter illowp25" id="titlepage" style="max-width: 23.9375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + <br> + + <hr class="double"> + +<p class="center no-indent wsp"> + <span class="fs90">BOSTON</span><br> + <span class="fs120">DANA ESTES & COMPANY</span><br> + <span class="fs90">PUBLISHERS</span> +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <p class="center no-indent wsp"> + <em>Copyright, 1911</em> + <br> + <span class="smcap">By Dana Estes & Company</span> + </p> +<hr class="r5"> + <p class="center no-indent wsp"> + <em>All rights reserved</em> + </p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<p class="center no-indent fs80">PONY DEXTER</p> + +<p class="center no-indent">Published June, 1911</p> +<br> +<br> +<p class="center no-indent fs80"> + <em>Electrotyped and Printed by</em><br> + <em>THE COLONIAL PRESS</em><br> + <em>C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A.</em> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Table"> + TABLE OF CONTENTS + </h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 15%"> +<img src="images/009.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</div> + +<p class="center no-indent lh"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"> + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + </h2> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 15%"> +<img src="images/009.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +</td> +<td class="tdr fs70"> +PAGE +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">For a Brief Space we Sped Neck to Neck</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<em><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></em> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">With Deft Fingers He Unfastened the Stout Rein</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#i_028a">29</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">He Made a Bold Dash—Flew to the Back of a Horse, Etc.</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#i_044a">44</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Oh! How I Longed for the Home Farm!</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#i_052a">52</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">He Stopped Abruptly and Looked at Me Attentively</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#i_060a">60</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Suddenly Came Face to Face with the Man Rondo</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#i_076a">76</a> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> + + + <p class="center no-indent wsp fs150"> + THE ADVENTURES OF<br> + PONY DEXTER + </p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 15%"> +<img src="images/009.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I"> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Such</span> a bright beautiful morning as it was when +we set out for the pony trot! Several well-grown +boys in our neighbourhood owned ponies. +There was Marco Boo, owned by Will Barrows; +Tony Swift, owned by Thomas Gray; Go-It, the +property of Hiram Wilks, and myself:—Pony Dexter, +with Perley Bolt for master. It was the four +of us that were entered for the morning’s run.</p> + +<p>Now a pony has eyes with which to see, and ears +with which to hear, and it was no fault of mine that +I heard grown lads, pretty young girls, and even a +number of men, praise what they called my “dandy +appearance” and extra fine “points.”</p> + +<p>So, once I began to notice more particularly the +various things said in my hearing, it did not take +me long to understand that my neck was long and +unusually well-arched for a pony, my head short, ears +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>upright, while there was a perfect curve from the +top of the head to the middle of the back. The body +was rather slender in which “rich veins” showed: +the legs, with neither splints nor side bones of objectionable +size, were straight, with flexible muscles and +delicate fetlocks, the hoofs strong and high-heeled.</p> + +<p>My dam, or mother, was a Welsh pony that had +been brought to this country, and probably both +speed and endurance were traceable to this lineage. +For colour I was a light bay, with coal black mane +and tail, both long and full-haired.</p> + +<p>I wish it could be said with truth that I loved my +master. Horses large and small, and ponies young +or well grown are naturally affectionate and if only +kindly treated, are gentle, kind and willing.</p> + +<p>But I once heard a man say that Perley Bolt, my +young master, had things too “soft” for his own +good. I gradually found out that this meant Perley +had too much money to do what he pleased with, was +allowed to do pretty much as he chose, and had in +consequence become a self-willed, high-tempered +young fellow.</p> + +<p>I was reared on a large stock-farm, a place where +a great many horses and ponies were bred, trained +and sold. It is not much fun being trained or +“broken” as they call it. In first attempting management +they allow a certain length of rein that a +pony does not understand the use of. Then, if he +bolts, tries to run, shows temper or great resistance, +first thing he knows, by some trick of raising a strap +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>that has been attached just above the hoofs, he is +tripped up, and there he is on his knees, head down +and unable to rise.</p> + +<p>He tries to kick, no use; tries to make a plunge, +impossible. Then he does the only thing there is to +do, lies quietly down. They teach some startling +lessons while he is in this position. Shake a newspaper +before his ears and eyes, a thing said to often +terrify a horse or pony if it flaunts unexpectedly before +them in the street.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a trainer rings a bell or even fires off +a dreadful thing called a pistol while we are prostrate +and unable to rise. But with a man standing +close by there is a feeling of safety. And these are +good and useful lessons. They teach fearlessness, +and that a great many sights and sounds that would +make us break the traces or throw a rider and run +away if we knew nothing about them, are yet perfectly +harmless of themselves and need cause poor +horsy or pony no fear.</p> + +<p>I was kindly treated and very happy during the +first three years of my life at the cattle farm. The +first simple lessons in training began when I was a +year old. In this department I was a mere “kid +pony,” and in a large field was driven round and +round every day, merely guided by reins, until I had +learned to turn to right or left according to the pressure +of the bit in my mouth.</p> + +<p>After a few months, I trotted along nearly every +day beside a staid, steady going horse much larger +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>than myself, taller and stronger, that was hitched to +a farm wagon. After I had learned courage and +some stability by these means, a careful, good-natured +groom began training me to the saddle, also to being +harnessed to a light cart or wagon. But my chief +use was to be that of a saddle horse.</p> + +<p>It took time and patience to bring me up to what +was considered a degree of ripe training, yet during +that time I was made useful in many ways. Then, +when at the age of three years, I was sent to a great +“Horse Fair,” it took but a few hours to have several +fine offers made for me, and almost the first +thing I knew, a tall lad named Perley Bolt had become +my new master. And I was sent properly +tagged and ticketed to a place called Greenpoint, +where a number of wealthy families had beautiful +summer residences.</p> + +<p>Near the “farm,” which always for me means my +first home, there were several children who used to +be allowed occasionally to mount the ponies once they +were considered sufficiently steady and gentle to be +guided by the young people. I liked well the touch +of the smooth hands and the laughing, coaxing voices.</p> + +<p>They would tickle me with make-believe whips of +braided twine or with a bunch of tied-up grasses when +wanting a swift run around the field. It was my +nature to be brisk and sportive, so, when a merry boy +or a lively, fun-loving girl would leap astride my +shining back, giving me a smart little slap, away I +would go, fleet, sure-footed, enjoying the fun quite +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>as much as my youthful rider. And if the wispy +whip showed they wished to go still faster and romp +along, romp I would until an indrawn rein warned +that I must tone down, and take the way more slowly.</p> + +<p>I have spoken of Marco Boo, owned by Will Barrows, +another boy of Greenpoint, and as Marco like +myself was reared at the farm, I of course felt interested +in him as an old acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Marco was a fine, spirited creature, but very nervous +and apt to be irritable if teased or driven until +overtired. Will Barrows unfortunately was fond of +teasing everything that came his way. A cat or dog +or even his little sister were objects he delighted to +worry and hector; so I felt sorry for poor mettlesome +Marco, fearing it would go hard with him, having +his own disposition to contend with and Will +Barrows for a master.</p> + +<p>But here we were settled at Greenpoint and not +very far from each other. And I began by alluding +to the pony trot about to take place one charming +day in early June. Also the four ponies whose +names were given together with their owners, were +the ones entered and were to compete as said before.</p> + +<p>At the outskirts of the town was a large automobile +manufactory with a wide circular track around +the buildings where the machines were tried and +tested. As more cars were ordered than could be +completed in several months, there was likely to be +but little outside practice for a few days. So the +boys were given permission to run their ponies +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>around the even drive as long as they liked that fair +morning.</p> + +<p>At the fourth round, the pony coming first to the +stake was to be declared the fastest one in town, and +was to be given a pretty blanket.</p> + +<p>Now Perley Bolt cared nothing whatever for the +blanket. All kinds of covers were neatly folded on +shelves in the harness-room of his father’s stable; but +he did care to have it said he owned the fastest pony +in town. I was determined he should. Phil, the +groom, combed my coat of shining bay, then rubbed +it down with flannel and chamois until I shone like +a polished mirror. Moreover he wet my fetlocks, +sponged my head, and wove a red ribbon in my +mane.</p> + +<p>In high fettle I started out, arching my neck and +lifting high my hoofs in token of the pride I felt in +coming victory.</p> + +<p>We were to start four abreast; I next to Marco +Boo who was at one end, Tony Swift was on my +other side, Go-It on the other end. News of the race +had spread far and wide, and the enclosure was full +of people. Men, boys and gay lassies were on hand +to witness the test, which after all was to be of the +simplest character. Merely four ponies, each trying +to outrun the others.</p> + +<p>At a given signal off we started, Go-It slightly in +the lead. He had a free, swinging gait, and by means +of an occasional kick-out kept well ahead during the +first round. The face of Hiram Wilks showed one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>broad grin, so pleased was the big boy at the brave +output of his spunky little pony.</p> + +<p>But during the second round, Marco Boo all at +once, with head stretched forward, tail afloat and +hoofs flying, shot ahead of poor Go-It, and the grin +that had been on Hiram Wilks’ face was transferred +to that of Will Barrows.</p> + +<p>I felt fear in a pony way for Marco Boo, because +from what among other things I had heard and seen +at the farm, I knew that a violent spurt of unusual +speed could not long be kept up. And sure enough, at +the beginning of the third round, Marco suddenly +“broke up,” and despite Will Barrows’ loud cries +and waving of the stinging pony whip, both Tony +Swift and I, Pony Dexter, flew ahead. Then it was +nip and tuck for us two. Tony was a quarter hand +taller than I, the heaviest built of us all, and as his +name indicated, swift and enduring.</p> + +<p>Had our riders but known it, it would have been +far better to have kept more quiet, bent to the work +of guiding us, trusting to our own instinctive ambition +to strive to run the other down. But Thomas +Gray shouted, hooted, rose in the saddle, and acted +as though the noise he made and the mad figure he +cut was going to rush Tony Swift to sure victory.</p> + +<p>Perley Bolt, astride my back, was nearly as bad. +He jerked the bit in my mouth, pulled my mane, +dug his heels into my sides and roared at me as if +to scare me into swifter action.</p> + +<p>Until now I had not put forth all my strength. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span>But suddenly I felt the good blood that was in me +rising and clamouring to assert itself: I felt also the +pushing power of those watching eyes, had heard the +huzzahs when Tony and I took the lead in the race, +almost felt the pounding of Perley’s heart as with +breathless heat he urged me on.</p> + +<p>Tony Swift’s fleet hoofs seemed scarcely to touch +the hard track as he bounded along at my side. For +a brief space we sped neck to neck. I scarcely saw +the bars of the fence as we shot by them. The crowd +grew quiet with interest and excitement. I caught +a gasping sound in Tony’s breathing. The way was +becoming short, Tony was going in leaps; so was I. +Then I gathered myself for one great plunge, made +it; added half a dozen astounding leaps, and—the +race was won!</p> + +<p>The blanket was mine.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II"> + CHAPTER II + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">There</span> was a great hubbub all around and about +me as the race ended. Perley Bolt, naturally +tall, looked as though he had grown still taller as +the young people pressed forward, shook his hand, +said pleasant words of praise, and patted my face, +neck and moist sides.</p> + +<p>A very proud pony I was as my prouder master, +mounting me, rode slowly away. Phil rubbed me +down thoroughly, but would take no notice of my desire +to get over to the trough and satisfy my eager +thirst. Not until he had rubbed me dry and thrown +a light linen cover over me would he let me drink.</p> + +<p>I suppose knowing creatures like men, can tell +when it is safe or unsafe to let animals drink cold +water. Certain it is I had to wait Phil’s time to get +near the trough. Then how grateful, how delightful, +the long, deep draughts of refreshing water! Surely +man and beast must be thankful for this common +boon and blessing.</p> + +<p>I believe Phil gave me a little more than my usual +supply of timothy and sweet clover for dinner, then, +like a sensible pony, I dozed and rested quietly +through the long, delicious summer afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> + +<p>Toward evening, my master, Perley, sauntered +over to the stable, and during the talk he had with +Phil, I gathered that a second pony race was already +being planned. Will Barrows claimed that Marco +Boo made an unfortunate sprint because of being +stung by a great green fly at just the wrong moment. +And Thomas Gray declared that the only reason +Tony Swift failed of winning the race, was because +of having had the wrong bit in his mouth by mistake.</p> + +<p>A day or two afterward in talking the affair over +with his friends, Perley said with an air of importance:—</p> + +<p>“Now there’s one thing certain, whichever pony +wins the race—that is, if I consent to enter Dexter +again—there must be no making up excuses for +those who fail. The one who comes out ahead wins +fair and square.”</p> + +<p>I scarcely knew why a touch of scorn crept into +the boy’s voice as he added,</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry Dexter can’t race for another prize, +but my father doesn’t like the idea. He gave away +the blanket Dexter won and said it was glory enough +to know I owned the fastest little trotter in town. +He wasn’t going to have stakes put up on anything +in his stable.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be satisfied to have Marco Boo come into +his own, and be acknowledged the fastest pony in +town,” Will Barrows said provokingly.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see him do it,” laughed Thomas Gray, +owner of Tony Swift.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> + +<p>As the other boys turned away, Perley said to me,</p> + +<p>“Now, Mister Dexter, you’re to take it easy until +next trotting day; meantime, I must teach you a +little something about saving your strength and speed +in racing, for a strong final struggle.”</p> + +<p>He needn’t have troubled himself about teaching +me that. Had I not already proved having some +sense of the advantage of hoarding breath and muscle +for the last hard reach?</p> + +<p>The second trial came on attended with even more +interest and a larger crowd than before. And every +pony of the four came to the auto circle, fresh, full of +spirit, and understanding what was expected of him—to +prove himself the fleetest footed pony in the +town. Reward enough it would be to either one to +be patted, petted, and praised for having won the race.</p> + +<p>Tony Swift held high his glossy head and sniffed +the air as if to say: “Now watch me win where the +other day I failed.”</p> + +<p>Go-It stepped lightly and looked the game little +fellow he really was.</p> + +<p>Marco Boo took no notice of the rest of us, not even +of me, his special acquaintance. I fancied Will Barrows +might have taunted poor, sensitive Marco for +not having outdone me on those last momentous leaps +when we raced before.</p> + +<p>We were drawn up in line ready for the starting +signal to be given, when a soft-hearted young girl +exclaimed,</p> + +<p>“Oh, I think it’s a shame to race those pretty +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>creatures! Cruel, to pit them one against another, +making them fly like mad, straining every nerve and +wearing themselves out in the exertion they must +make.”</p> + +<p>She was with an older sister, who replied laughingly,</p> + +<p>“Why, Bettie, they like it! It’s just as much fun +for a horse or pony to run and race as it was for you +to play ‘tag’ a few years ago. There is nothing +cruel in running a healthy young pony round this +small ring four times. It wouldn’t tire out four +strong boys. So, enjoy it, Bettie, there’s no reason +why you shouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>She spoke the truth. As long as we are not unduly +forced, lashed, or pricked with spurs, we like to dash +out, show our speed, and realizing there is a goal +ahead, run for it with all the vim there is in us. Who +has not seen two or three dogs rushing along, heedless +of everything but a desire on the part of each to +leave the others behind. Just so, we small fellows +of the great horse family feel our ambition to run +and win in the simple trial of speed.</p> + +<p>I was glad to see that Bettie looked happily on as +we awaited the signal to start. Her eyes shone and +once she felt the sport was sport indeed for us, she +was quite as ready to enjoy it as anyone.</p> + +<p>The flag was waved and off we flew. Marco Boo, +who I thought looked sullen as he fell into line, +lagged at the rear, taking no notice apparently of +Will Barrows’ angry cries and efforts to make him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>push on. I was slightly ahead from the start, Tony +Swift but a pace or two behind. Go-It was keeping +up a steady, sweeping gait without a sign of breaking.</p> + +<p>At the end of the second round Marco Boo was +way behind. Go-It was nearly at my side. Tony +Swift had fallen back by a couple of hands’ breadth.</p> + +<p>All at once Marco Boo lowered his head, struck out +his heels, shook his mane like an angry steer, and +tore as if wild, causing loud shouts and cheers to rise +from the amused and now freshly expectant crowd.</p> + +<p>Before the third round was completed Marco had +distanced all but myself, and I, bound to be the +winner again if possible, ran as if for my life, no +more than a yard ahead of the suddenly awakened +Marco.</p> + +<p>And so on until within a few feet of the goal. +Will Barrows, ready to shout with triumph, sat +lightly in the saddle, raising himself every other +moment as if to lighten the pony’s load, his high, +exultant tones no doubt lending speed to Marco’s +bounding hoofs, at the same time I knew Perley Bolt +was trembling with excitement, as with fierce and +husky voice he called me “good, good boy,” and entreated +me to make but one bound more.</p> + +<p>Only a bound it seemed, and a second time I +should have leaped to success, but within that short +stride to a second victory my hoof caught, I tripped, +and amid loud huzzahs Marco Boo rushed to the pole.</p> + +<p>I did not quite fall, but the sharp halt at the critical +moment proved my Waterloo. There had been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>a slight defect in the splendid track from the first of +our starting out. It may be our flying hoofs had +deepened it. What wonder that my small hoof catching +directly in the little rut should have arrested my +flight, and stopped the headlong race?</p> + +<p>It was Will Barrows’ turn to exult and receive +congratulations as he patted Marco Boo’s head with +real pride. Leaving me to myself, Perley Bolt went +over to the spot where I halted, then going up to the +group about Will Barrows he said angrily,</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t Dexter have slipped? Go look at +the hole big as my two fists where his hoof caught. +Wonder is he wasn’t thrown and I with him!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, none of that,” jeered Will Barrows. “You +made the terms yourself, Perley,” he repeated laughingly: +“‘There must be no making up of excuses +for those who do not win. Whoever comes in first +will do it fair and square the same as I did with +Dexter.’ I’ve got the fastest pony in town.”</p> + +<p>Of course, Perley could not say a word to this, and +he turned away with a frown on his face not pleasant +to see. I was wishing he would come to me for my +left knee was beginning to be painful, and I realized +that in sinking downward on clapping my hoof into +that hole I extricated it with a wrench that was going +to tell.</p> + +<p>As I stood by the rail merely fastened by my bridle +I longed to have Phil apply the liniment that always +helped me when sprained or bruised. I gave a low +whinny, looking toward Perley, but he impatiently +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>bade me “shut up” and I wondered how I would +fare when at last he should deign to notice me.</p> + +<p>I soon felt that a bunch was rising on my knee, +but speechless animal that I was, it was useless trying +to make my displeased young master understand +that I needed care and easing.</p> + +<p>That is one of the hard parts of being a mere +animal without voice to make a plaint or tell of suffering. +Patience is the only thing that helps us, +and few human beings imagine how much patience +and endurance poor dumb animals have to teach +themselves, in order to bear their aches and pains, +and also to excuse the thoughtlessness of masters, +young and old.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III"> + CHAPTER III + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">It</span> seemed as though Perley would never come to +my aid. But alas! how cold and unkind was +his manner when he finally stood beside me!</p> + +<p>With a cross, impatient jerk he drew the bridle +from the rail, and pulled me along, not stopping to +mount as usual. For this, however, I was thankful +as my knee ached so it would have been hard to have +borne him. He did not go along the usual road, but +branched off toward a piece of woods lying between +Greenpoint and Emsted, the next station.</p> + +<p>What was he about to do? The forbidding expression +of his face boded no good for poor pony +being led through this forest path. Not one word +had he spoken thus far since leaving the auto +grounds, only had paced along in sullen silence, now +and then jerking at the rein. But he was my master, +my keeper, and I could but follow where he led; then +an unavoidable stumble made me long for a bit of +sympathy, until stretching my long neck, I rested my +chin for an instant on his sturdy shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Get away there, you dunce!” he cried, tossing +me aside with such a violent motion that I kept as +far from him as possible.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>In a secluded corner he fastened me securely.</p> + +<p>“There!” he cried defiantly, “stay where you are +until you can learn to stand upon your feet instead +of getting down on your knees just before the end of +a race. When I get ready I’ll come for you.” And +off he strode.</p> + +<p>At the farm I had heard all kinds of stories about +the treatment of animals at the hands of masters +good and bad. Among others, I had heard how some +men would stop right where they were with a stubborn +horse, unharness, and tie him to the nearest tree, +there leaving him all day and perhaps all night without +food or water.</p> + +<p>Well, perhaps a horse or pony would deserve to +be left alone and kept hungry and thirsty who +through willfulness or ill temper refused to do a master’s +bidding.</p> + +<p>But there was I, a faithful pony, if I do say it, +always willing and obedient, because of an accident +which I could in no way prevent, condemned to be +left for hours without food or water, and without +greatly needed care.</p> + +<p>What right-minded person would not cry shame +on the ungrateful boy, willing to so misuse me!</p> + +<p>I gave one prolonged, pleading whinny as Perley +marched away. He took no notice of it and was +soon out of sight. Had he noticed that I limped as +he led me along? He probably had as he did not +mount as usual, but was too much maddened to appear +either to notice or care.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> + +<p>The hot June sun filtered through the trees, but +a soft breeze fanned and helped me. If I only could +have lain down, it would have been great relief. But +the bridle was fastened tightly to a branch on a level +with my head, and either lying down or cropping +grass was an impossibility.</p> + +<p>It was an hour before noon when Perley left me. +A far away clock had struck four in the afternoon +before anyone passed through the woods. I was truly +to be pitied. My mouth was parched after the hard +run. I was hungry, as my breakfast had been an +early and hurried one. My knee by this time felt +about three times as large as it really was. It was +particularly wearisome holding up my head as I was +obliged to, and all my pony-being was silently crying +for relief.</p> + +<p>All at once I pricked an upright ear. A sound of +whistling came from afar. Gradually it came nearer. +My ears are keen and can distinguish between sounds +even at a distance. I soon knew it was quite a young +boy who was approaching, one who had not whistled +very long.</p> + +<p>Sure enough; pacing through the woods, his hands +in the pockets of his short trousers, a little old polo +cap on his head, came a boy eleven or twelve years of +age. His sunny hair fluffed around his forehead +scarcely concealed by the cap on the back of his head, +the gay tune he was attempting going well with the +bright, boyish face and careless stride.</p> +<br> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="i_028a" style="max-width: 42.25em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_028a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + WITH DEFT FINGERS HE UNFASTENED THE STOUT REIN. + </figcaption> +</figure> +<br> + +<p>He was passing me by, seeing nothing of the poor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>pony hidden by rank bushes taller than he. I could +not see him go. A long, shrill whinny made him +look around in surprise. Another instant brought +him to my side. His voice, the gentle, caressing voice +of a dear, tender-hearted laddie, was like music and +healing to my ears.</p> + +<p>“Why, hossy!” he began, his dark eyes running +me over with not altogether unpractised an air, +“How came you here, your head strapped up in that +style, your eyes heavy for this time o’ day? Bless +us, but you’re tired! Been running?”</p> + +<p>He was passing a hand swiftly over me as he +talked, and I stood with one leg uplifted, for my +knee was aching with dull thuds.</p> + +<p>“Ha!” he cried suddenly, “what’s this? What’s +got your knee, hossy? Looks to me as if you’d been +used pretty hard. Come here, now.”</p> + +<p>With deft fingers he unfastened the stout rein, letting +down my tired head. Then he led me across to +where a large rock high enough for him to seat himself +comfortably, enabled him to look me over more +thoroughly.</p> + +<p>“Thirsty?” he asked.</p> + +<p>I whinnied and stretched my head toward the kind +hands.</p> + +<p>“You come with me,” he said again.</p> + +<p>“Lame, aren’t you? Well, you’re too fine a little +fellow to get the treatment somebody’s given you. +Jinks! but I wish you was my little hossy, wouldn’t +you get the care though!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> + +<p>He smiled a bit ruefully and added: “Between +you and me, pony dear, I don’t get just the care myself +I might have. But never mind! I’m going to +take care of myself before long, then I’ll have a better +chance perhaps. May have a fine little hossy of +my own some day, who knows? Now drink.”</p> + +<p>He had been slowly leading me along a foot path +I had never trodden before, and all at once before +my half-closed eyes gleamed the clear water of a +spring,—oh, gladsome sight! I drank and drank as +if never to be satisfied. Then I cropped the sweet, +fresh grass growing all around the green glade.</p> + +<p>“You’re tired and hungry and hurt,” said the +boy; “chomp away there until you’re satisfied, then +let’s see what ails that puffy leg.”</p> + +<p>After satisfying my hunger, I felt overcome with +fatigue, but on dropping to my knees, I whinnied +with pain, then stretched my left leg straight along +the grass. This gave the boy a good opportunity to +examine it closely.</p> + +<p>“Jinks!” he exclaimed, “you’ve got a sprain +there that’s got to be looked after, or first thing you +know, you’ll have a stiff joint, then—they won’t +want you long.”</p> + +<p>He felt all around, pressing gently the swelling, +and peering close as if attempting to discover the +cause of the wound. Then he looked into my mouth, +quite with the air of an experienced little jockey. +He seemed puzzled and began whistling as if to help +out his thoughts. Then he said a queer thing:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> + +<p>“Hossy, I don’t believe I should think much of +your master, and I’d like to know you, if I should +see you again.”</p> + +<p>He got up and went over to the spring. In a +moment back he came, his rather doubtful looking +handkerchief sopped full of water. Oh, but it felt +good, that cool, refreshing, helpful rag, bound far as +it would go about my inflamed knee. I lifted my +heavy eyes in dumb, yet I hoped, expressive gratitude +to his face.</p> + +<p>“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he said. “Well, let’s +have it again.”</p> + +<p>Four times he went to and fro, kind, bonnie, willing, +pressing cooling water against the hurt knee, +already less painful as the wet, healing bit of cloth +was applied.</p> + +<p>It was past five o’clock when tramping feet were +heard, coming briskly through the woods, and at a +little distance Perley Bolt began looking for a vanished +pony. In a few moments he came into view +when my sunny young friend called out,</p> + +<p>“Hulloo there! Looking for an injured hossy?”</p> + +<p>Perley came over in hot haste. “What you doing +with my pony?” he asked, neither his voice nor manner +those of a young gentleman.</p> + +<p>But he of the sunny hair was not afraid. He began,</p> + +<p>“I found this pretty pony in anything but a pretty +fix. He was starved, parched and his head tied up so +high he couldn’t rest neck or limb. Worst of all, he’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>got a sprain that if you don’t liniment or salve pretty +freely when you get him home, he’ll have a knee +stick stiff, then let’s see you drive or ride pretty +hossy any more.”</p> + +<p>“I’m able to take care of my own pony,” was the +haughty reply. “He went back on me at a race +this morning. I tied him up as a punishment for +his clumsiness, pitching into a hole, and losing +me the victory of having the fastest pony in +town. He might have looked where he was going +and not disappointed me so! Have you let him +feed?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” the boy answered brightly, “I let him +crop grass and watered him. I tied up his leg +too.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he won’t get anything more to-night,” +snarled Perley. “As to his knee, Phil at the stable +can see about that.”</p> + +<p>I knew the kind boy watched as Perley urged me +to my feet and led me away. I tried at the last +moment to look my gratitude, and hoped my young +friend understood. At the edge of the woods Perley +mounted me, but I had to limp so badly he soon took +to leading me again. He gave directions to Phil +not to feed me, but to see what my knee might need. +As he went toward the house, Phil, a great-hearted, +characteristic Scotchman, muttered:—</p> + +<p>“Hoot! an it’s mesel will feed Meester Dexter +all he desarves. Plenty o’ water the laddie will get +too. An’ ye may think yersel lucky, Meester Perley, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span>if the braw leetle beastie gets oot o’ this wi’ a whole +knee, th’ foolish lad thet ye are! Cross an’ cranky +because the bit o’ a horse treeped into a hole, like as +ye’d done yersel, had ye coom upon it, wi’ your eyes +feexed on a pole!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV"> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> next morning I was much better. Phil’s +strong liniment had put down the swelling, but +my knee was still sensitive and when Perley proposed +riding me to a spot three miles distant to see a ball +game, Phil declared it would be unwise and perhaps +ruinous to do so.</p> + +<p>But my headstrong young master would not listen +to the knowing groom, and so to the game and back I +bore him, six miles in all. Before we reached home, +I was quite lame again with worse pain in my knee +than I had felt before. Phil rubbed and bandaged, +gave me a careful drying off, and a nice warm +mash of bran and meal. The next day something +in his keen blue eye made Master Perley think +it best not to meddle with his judicious treatment.</p> + +<p>I was coming up all right again, but one night +when it had suddenly grown cold for June, Perley, +without saying a word to Phil, put on my saddle and +rode me to Emsted, where some young people were +to have a moonlight dance. Here I was left standing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>in an open shed for several hours without a sign of a +covering.</p> + +<p>At midnight, Phil, who had a good room upstairs +in the stable, heard me breathing hard and laboriously. +He knew an attack of asthma had come on, +a trouble to which horses and ponies are quite subject +upon taking a sudden cold.</p> + +<p>This proved disastrous. What with my knee, +which swelled again, and the wheezing, difficult +breathing, I was a poor sick pony, entirely unfit for +use for several days. At that juncture something +occurred which brought about one of the important +changes of my life.</p> + +<p>Once again I was getting better, when Perley +resolved to drive me a mile beyond Emsted in company +with Marco Boo and Tony Swift, whose owners +like himself were to attend a picnic. Phil refused +to get me ready, declaring it a sinful shame to ride +a pony not wholly recovered from a bad bruise and +an illness besides.</p> + +<p>Phil was a thoroughly experienced groom, caring +well for me as well as for a splendid Morgan bay +in a wide box stall at the other end of the stable; but +being a carriage horse only, I seldom saw the valuable +thoroughbred of which Mr. Bolt, Perley’s father, +was both fond and proud.</p> + +<p>Now, Phil stood his ground, declaring me still a +half sick pony. Hard words followed. Cuddled in +my comfortable stall, I heard Perley give lordly +orders, and Phil declare he’d be “pickled, salted an’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>roosted” before he’d comb or saddle me again until +I was fit for the road.</p> + +<p>Perley threatened to go and tell his father that +Phil had refused to obey orders. But this time the +Scotch temper was thoroughly roused. “’Tis to +your father I’ll gang mesel’,” spurted Phil, “an’ tell +the whole story o’ yer mis<em>chee</em>vous ways wi’ the puir +leetle hoss! Meesery enough ye’ve caused him, now +I’ll hev a bit worrd to say.”</p> + +<p>At that I noticed Perley changed his tune. He +told Phil he needn’t get me ready, he’d do it himself. +But Phil’s sturdy reply would have made me +smile, could a pony manage to smile.</p> + +<p>“It’s neither you nor me will saddle th’ pony th’ +day. To yer father I gang, an’ wotever cooms o’ it, +may coom. I’ll stan’ noo more o’ yer dour actins, +ye’ll see noo!”</p> + +<p>Off strode Phil in the direction of the house. In +a few moments he returned, Mr. Bolt with him. +Perley tried to look spunky and injured as his father +approached, but before he could speak a word his +father asked sternly,</p> + +<p>“What’s this I hear about your determination to +use a lame, sick pony? If what Phil tells me is true, +I’ll sell the little fellow next thing I do!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bolt was an indulgent, generous man. It was +a fact that his son had more money to spend than +was good for him, also the boy had been allowed to +have his own way to too great a degree. But his +father, if open-handed and easy-going, was of a kind, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>humane nature, and anything like cruelty and injustice +even toward defenceless animals, was something +he had no mind to tolerate.</p> + +<p>Perley listened, half smiling at his father’s indignant +outburst, not thinking it best to deny the +things Phil had accused him of. But as his father +turned away he said with a low laugh:—</p> + +<p>“Dad blusters and scolds, then forgets everything +before he reaches the next corner.”</p> + +<p>Phil made no reply. Mr. Bolt started for the city, +and Perley went off to go by train to the picnic.</p> + +<p>About the middle of the morning a brisk, businesslike +man made his appearance at the stable, saying +he had come for “Dexter”, a pony Mr. Bolt had +sold him.</p> + +<p>Phil was taken by surprise, notwithstanding what +Mr. Bolt had said. In fact he found it hard to +believe the truth until Mr. Van Vim, whom he knew +for a straightforward man, showed the receipt, convincing +him that I and certain effects had really been +sold. Mr. Van Vim, who kept a first-class livery +stable only a few streets from Mr. Bolt’s place, had +not needed to look me over before purchasing. I was +well known in Greenpoint.</p> + +<p>As Phil went about getting the saddle and blankets, +now also the property of Mr. Van Vim, he talked +to me in grieved, regretful strain:—</p> + +<p>“Dexter, dear-r, I’ll be greetin’ fer ye! I will +that! But Meester Bolt, he hev a temper matchin’ +Master Perley’s, an’ maybe it’s a gude thing that he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>hev. Wot th’ lad will say when he finds ye’ve ganged +awa’ I’m sure I dinna ken. It’s to a kind mon ye go, +but ye’ll hev plenty to do at the livery. Verra like +ye’ll not bide there lang. Bye, bye, laddie; keep yer +coorage oop an’ gude luck attend ye!”</p> + +<p>And so I passed from my snug quarters at Mr. +Bolt’s, having learned what a hard, unhappy thing +it is for a pony to live with man or boy, who, having +a hard, strong will, is too willing to indulge it.</p> + +<p>But I was to have a jolly kind of life at the livery.</p> + +<p>Go-It, Hiram Wilks’ smart stepping pony, was +there, and several gentlemen of Greenpoint kept +fine thoroughbreds with Mr. Van Vim, an experienced +horseman himself, who gave the best of care to +the animals committed to his keeping.</p> + +<p>A man named “Tillings” was my special groom, +a rollicking Irishman who sang in time to the curry +comb, or stamped and whistled with the back and +forward movement of the polishing cloths.</p> + +<p>Under Tillings’ careful treatment I was soon +thoroughly myself again. All signs of asthma disappeared, +my knee healed and grew strong, and I +was ready to race and romp with the best of them. +By this time, July had come with its great heat, its +myriad flowers, its thunder showers and usually +delicious mornings. One day, a breezy girl came to +my stall, exclaiming, “So this is Dexter? Well now, +do you suppose he’ll take kindly to the side-saddle? +Father won’t let me ride astride as some girls do, +he thinks it isn’t graceful, but I’m going on that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>mock hunt to-morrow, and should like to ride this +beautiful pony if I can.”</p> + +<p>Then I had a new experience. Tillings put on me +a handsome leather saddle, with shorter stirrups than +ever had dangled at my side before, and led me out +to the stable yard. At a high block, Miss Gladys +Fleming mounted, and Tillings began leading me, +until, as he said, I “got uset to the flopping o’ skirts +aboon the knees.”</p> + +<p>It did feel funny, all that cloth flapping against +my sides, but the girl was light as a feather and +must have ridden before, for in a few moments +she told Tillings to let go, and sat firm and fearlessly +as I ran at a good pace around the stable +yard.</p> + +<p>There really was great sport the next day at what +was called the “fox hunt”.</p> + +<p>It amounted to this: an anise-bag—a bag filled +with anise seed or flower, of a strong, pungent odour—had +been dragged over a considerable number of +miles, and sporting hounds taking the scent raced +toward the pretended lair of poor Reynard, who fortunately +this time was a mere myth. Marco Boo was +also in the race, and for the rest there were chiefly +young horses.</p> + +<p>I gathered from what was said, that it was very +unusual for ponies to be in a fox hunt, as the dogs +were swifter than even trained hunters; beautiful, +lithe horses, fleet, sure-footed, and fond of racing, +folding their forearms and leaping a fence like cats, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>while scudding with light hoofs in eagerness to be +“in” when the fox is run down.</p> + +<p>But this was a kind of “make-believe” hunt, and +I tested my speed with real zest and enjoyment until +horses and ponies stopped with the dogs at a thick +patch of bushes, in which had been hidden a great +black rag doll, placed for fun at the end of the anise +trail.</p> + +<p>Could you but have seen the fate of the big rag +doll! It was tossed and tossed, high as the indignant +dogs could fling. Had it not been made strong +with linen twine and leather bindings, the mimic +man would have been a mere mass of tatters in less +time than it takes to tell of it. But after half an +hour of tossing, bounding, pulling and rending, there +remained only fragments of what had been a funny +figure serving as a decoy or piece of false game.</p> + +<p>Then the chief fun of the day being over, we raced +home, a beautiful, sleek Arabian trotting with +rhythmic measure to the light clatter of my hoofs. +Go-It also made brave time, striding along with +steady, even gait, Hiram Wilks using neither voice +nor tightening rein to spur him on.</p> + +<p>It was a mirthful, healthful run, the sportive +hounds alternately lagging behind, or rushing with +lolling tongues way ahead of the ambling cavalcade +that rode to the music of cheery voices and rippling +laughter.</p> + +<p>It was a bright, happy chapter in my pony life.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V"> + CHAPTER V + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">I had</span> soon decided that Gladys Fleming was an +attractive, winsome young creature of warm heart +and loving nature. She enjoyed putting me to my +best speed on part of the homeward way, and I found +hearty pleasure in responding to her clucks and +smart little pats, leaving light hoof-prints along the +even, sunny road.</p> + +<p>I also felt it certain that the lordly looking young +man mounted on the mottled Arabian, a horse of +medium build and perfect shape, knew quite as +much concerning Miss Gladys’ fine traits as anyone +did. The graceful Arabian was close beside me all +the homeward path. “I want father to buy me this +pony,” said the laughing girl, “but Tillings says +that Perley Bolt is desperate to get him back. He +stands ready to pay more than Mr. Van Vim gave +for him. But Mr. Van Vim said he shouldn’t have +him back under a week from the time he began to +be driven again if at all. I’ve told Tillings to let +me know just the hour the week is up and he +promises he will. Then if Perley hasn’t reclaimed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>him, father says perhaps I shall have Dexter for my +own dear pony. I want him dreadfully!”</p> + +<p>“When will the week be up?” asked her companion, +Mr. Chester Moore.</p> + +<p>“Next Thursday at noon,” Gladys replied.</p> + +<p>Now I at once became anxious to have the three +days remaining before Thursday noon expire. What +would take place before then, who could tell? I only +knew I was very, very anxious to have Gladys for +a mistress, but was helpless to let her know it. +I could only stretch out my neck for the caress she +was quick to give as she dismounted at the stable, and +look after her with beseeching eyes as they led me +back to my stall.</p> + +<p>Two days after this we had a bit of rare sport at +Van Vim’s. There was a great cat that persistently +kept around the stable. Had he been useful and of +a good disposition he would have been welcome and +kindly treated. But he was determined to tease and +pester the more nervous horses, and would worry the +little dogs that were really afraid of him. Consequently +the stable men tried to get rid of him.</p> + +<p>One day, Tillings was obliged to go some twenty +miles into the country, taking a horse and buggy to a +man who had purchased both. He was to return by +train. Here was a grand chance to dispose of +“Hector,” as he had been dubbed. It was thought +to be no cruelty to drop a great healthy cat, and let +him grub for himself or find a good home, as he +could, if he only would behave himself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> + +<p>The trip was taken, Hector released, and given +the privilege of teasing where he could. Late in the +afternoon Tillings entered the stable to behold Hector +perched a-top of a great bran box, as the man said, +“grinning from ear to ear.” He had reached Greenpoint +by ways best known to himself, sooner than +Tillings had reached it by train.</p> + +<p>Before this, a grocer had wanted him, and one +morning carried him away. No; Hector had made +up his pussy-cat mind to stay at Van Vim’s stable, +and stay he would whether wanted or not.</p> + +<p>So there he was still nibbling at the fetlocks of +mettlesome horses, and tormenting every little dog +that followed its master to the stable. Tillings set +his mind to work wondering by what means he could +drive him away once for all. He could do nothing +cruel, yet was bound to rid the place of him as soon +as possible.</p> + +<p>On that day, the second after the fox hunt, Marco +Boo, two or three frolicsome young horses and myself +were in the stable yard, all full of life and fun, as +without tether or rein we were free to caper about as +we chose. Tillings was fastening a “boot” around +the leg of a horse that “interfered” when Hector +gave a sly nip at the thoroughbred’s hind leg.</p> + +<p>“Quick as a wink” Tillings seized the great cat +and threw him over into the stable yard midst the +kicking, romping horses. A spry animal like a cat +is hard to be cornered. It will either run up a tree, +leap to a fence or cuddle in a corner, defiance in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>every bristling hair. Nature has taught him the +sharp trick of eluding running hoofs and rolling +wheels.</p> + +<p>But for once Hector was completely confused. +There was no tree to climb, the fence was too high +to be reached by a single bound, and the rounding +fence offered no corners. Neither was horse or pony +going to mince matters for the frightened cat’s accommodation. +Had Tillings stopped to witness +Hector’s dilemma, his kind heart might have failed +him in carrying out the deserved penalty.</p> + +<p>He ducked as for his life between our legs, tried +to leap the fence but failed, clawed at it for a knot +hole, but there was none. Finally in a fierce attempt +to reach a crack at the stable door, he came down +plump on Marco Boo’s back. The pony immediately +laid down, and rolled over, shedding the nimble cat, +who squeezed himself close to the fence while +perilously near the bounding hoofs he could not seem +to elude.</p> + +<p>At length in wild frenzy he made a bold dash, flew +to the back of a horse and from that flew completely +over the fence, landing with a slam on the back of +an astonished staghound, who immediately gave fierce +and growling chase. The loud whistle of his master +called him back, but Hector’s flying heels made the +men who witnessed the droll scamper roar with +laughter.</p> +<br> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="i_044a" style="max-width: 42.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_044a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + HE MADE A BOLD DASH—FLEW TO THE BACK OF A HORSE, ETC. + </figcaption> +</figure> +<br> + +<p>And that was the last of Hector. What with +scratching for his life midst a yardful of heedless, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>scampering horses, escaping by a furious bound and +merciless tumble, to be chased by a great growling +hound of a dog, Hector evidently was warned by +every scrap of feline instinct he possessed, that he +had better seek pastures new in which to indulge his +teasing nature.</p> + +<p>The week was not quite up when it would be +decided who was to become my new mistress or +master when an event occurred, which, all unforeseen, +was to bring greater changes in my life than +any I had yet even dreamed of.</p> + +<p>From remarks that have reached my ears, it must +be that men and women think their lives are changeful, +but they perhaps seldom give a thought to the +fact that poor dumb animals feel change only second +in keenness to the way human beings feel it. We +are susceptible to great homesickness, notice, sometimes +quite unhappily, a different diet, and have been +known to grieve to death over parting with a beloved +master or mistress.</p> + +<p>But in speaking of changes, I had heard Phil at +Mr. Bolt’s stable, exclaim, “Ah, weel a-weel, sic is +life!” and Tillings at Mr. Van Vim’s livery, cry, +“Faix, an’ sich is life!” So I suppose if many an +animal could use human language, its cry would +be, “Ah well, such is life!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI"> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> July night closed in misty and dark, for +there was no moon. Tillings had long since +gone up to his room, and for hours the dull thunder +of his heavy snoring had boomed along our stalls.</p> + +<p>I slept and waked and waked and slept after +the manner of most animals. As I slowly opened +my eyes after a long nap, I heard a low, slow, +grating noise which did not in the least disturb +Tillings’ deep slumber. No dog was about the place +or his quick ear would have heard the quiet picking, +and a roaring bark would have brought Tillings +down in great haste.</p> + +<p>Very stealthily at length a man entered, carrying +a queer kind of light. I know now it came from a +“dark lantern,” a kind of lantern shedding light +from a small opening that could be quickly closed. +It is sometimes called a “bull’s eye.”</p> + +<p>This silent figure tiptoed from stall to stall, casting +a swift, searching glance into each. Then he came +back to mine, lifted my feet very gently, and I think +stuck some kind of soft, thick padding along each +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span>hoof. He next unhitched my long, leather chain +and led me slowly and guardedly out. As he did so, +I gave a loud, long whinny, but for once Tillings did +not hear, and it was so against my nature to kick or +struggle, it never occurred to me to do either.</p> + +<p>He closed the stable door without a sound, walked +me fully a quarter of a mile, then mounted bareback +and set me to a smart, steady pace. We journeyed +all the rest of the night, and nearly all the next day, +until I could scarcely hobble.</p> + +<p>Before daylight the pads in my hoofs, which made +my hoof beats almost noiseless, had rolled into little +balls hurting me so the man relieved me of them. +And at times he would dismount and walk beside me +a few miles. As he was a heavy man I could not have +stood the long journey as I did, had he made me carry +him all the way. At noon he gave me a small pail of +oats.</p> + +<p>Toward dusk, such a queer place as I found myself +in! A wide, green space, with things called “tents” +in which lived men, women and children. It was a +gipsy camp. And a man named “Rondo,” a gipsy, +had stolen me.</p> + +<p>I was not unkindly treated. Once we reached the +encampment, water was given me,—clear and delicious +it was too, right from a spring, and I was fed, +meagrely I must confess, then fastened to a tree +under which I could lie down, on a large, thick +blanket, which was old and ragged, but yet kept me +warm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p> + +<p>I must have slept immediately upon lying down +for I knew nothing more until a smart slap on my +plump flank roused me, and a July sun was already +high in the heavens.</p> + +<p>A busy scene was all around. Women were washing +dishes at a rude table, breakfast was well over; +men were brushing showy garments, while a few +children danced to the music of bones and tambourines. +I was given a scanty breakfast of plain hay, +no oats, no sweet timothy rich with clover, but just +dry hay and water.</p> + +<p>Then came the queerest performance in which I +ever hope to figure. A swarthy man held me firmly +by the bridle, while another man <em>painted</em> me from +ear-tips to ankle-ends, and—black, coal black! my +whole body matching mane and tail of midnight +hue. Then they named me “Don.”</p> + +<p>So I was no longer a bay pony called Dexter, but +a black pony by the name of Don.</p> + +<p>A brand new life was before me. It transpired +that I was to be a “trick pony,” and although the +few things I was to be taught were very simple, it +yet was astonishing how soon I learned.</p> + +<p>First, I was to let no one mount me but Rondo +and a boy called “Nick,” who fed, watered and +cleaned me,—all I ever was cleaned. Every little +while I was given a fresh coat of colouring, which I +somehow hated. Soon I was taught to dance, +“taking steps” after the manner of dancing men. +Are you curious to know how this was done?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + +<p>I am glad to say no cruelty was resorted to. +Animals, a great many of them, are just as fond of +sugar as are little boys. This is particularly true of +horses and ponies. A chunk of sugar weighing half +a pound or more was placed before me, and in time +I came to know, just as a child would, that when I +had done what was required I would be given the +sugar and not before.</p> + +<p>Rondo would stand before me, lift a foot and +crook a knee. Nick would slap my leg, reaching out +his hand to take my hoof. In this way I learned the +first movement toward dancing.</p> + +<p>Then Rondo would slide a foot across the sward. +I learned to slide a hoof in the same manner. Pretty +soon I understood with a kind of “horse sense” that +I was to try doing whatever Rondo did, at lesson +time. Sugar rewarded each victory, and as said +before, it was astonishing how soon I could lift a +hoof, bend a knee, slide, half curvet, lift another +fore hoof, slide, curvet, turn, chassé, and promenade +a few steps.</p> + +<p>Then I was taught to “shed” anyone and everyone +who attempted to mount me, except Rondo, Nick, +and one of the little girls, if she was placed on my +back by one of the men. I must shy, curvet and +elude anyone else. Should anyone by a dexterous +movement succeed in getting on to my back, I must +lie down, half roll over, and adroitly spill the venturesome +one.</p> + +<p>For several weeks my life in the gipsy camp was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>full of variety and much that was amusing while +warm weather lasted. The outdoor life was pleasant +and free, what was expected of me was easy in the +main although I often was miserably tired when I +laid down at night. My food also was coarse and +scanty, and I missed pitifully the careful grooming +that hitherto I had always received.</p> + +<p>One thing I had been taught with particular strictness +was not to allow people to pat or caress me. This, +no doubt, had to do with the paint or stain with +which I was continually covered. Tricks however +were not all that was expected of me.</p> + +<p>Every pleasant evening, Rondo, Mother Hubbard—the +Madame of the tribe—two or three children +and Nick, went to different villages around the place +of encampment, and under a light, flimsy tent, +Mother Hubbard told fortunes, Nick played bones +or the tambourine, the children danced, and I showed +off my few tricks.</p> + +<p>Wherever we travelled to and fro, on my back was +a big box containing the velvet gown and tinsel cap in +which Mother Hubbard arrayed herself as the +fortune teller. Also in a great, unwieldy bundle was +the portable tent which always must be erected by +eight o’clock. Besides this, on the return trip the +children would take turns in riding a-top of the load +with which I was already burdened.</p> + +<p>Our tramps were long and tiresome. It was +wonderful that the younger people could trudge so +far, dance their jigs and flings, then walk even a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>portion of the way home. But there was excitement +in seeing troops of people, chiefly young, in gay +spirits and bright summer attire, pouring into the +lighted tent, and midst jokes and laughter hearing +the fortunes told, which always must have been +pleasant and agreeable, for they went as they came, +full of high spirits and laughter.</p> + +<p>Once in a while older people came, and more than +once, an officer of the law, in helmet, and with brass +buttons on his coat, would come and look around, but +he always found things quiet and orderly.</p> + +<p>I sometimes felt a hope stirring within me that he +might be looking for a lost pony, but how, pray, +would anyone know me for a bay pony when wearing +a coat as black as black could be?</p> + +<p>After being in a place about two weeks, we would +pack up and go—always by night—to some other +town, select a rural spot, a bit of woods if possible, +pitch the tents, then at night go to some “open” +near the village and draw the crowds sure to assemble.</p> + +<p>I think a good deal of money rolled into Mother +Hubbard’s tin cup. The tribe had plenty of food +such as it was, but they lived on coarse supplies, and +largely from the baker’s wagon sure to promptly find +us out. The men smoked a good deal, as also did +Mother Hubbard.</p> + +<p>As for me, I soon began to pine for the healthful +nourishment always enjoyed until now. Hay and +freshly dried grass, never anything else was given +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>me. No sweet timothy, fragrant with clover, no oats +or crushed corn; never a mouthful of scalded bran +after a long, long march in a chilly drizzle. For by +the last of August we began to have cool, damp nights, +when the men, women and children would drink +steaming tea brewed over a good hot fire kindled +outside the main tent after the night’s tramp.</p> + +<p>But no one thought of poor “Don” tethered too +far off to feel the warm blaze, and longing for a little +outside or inside warming.</p> + +<p>During September I began to show the effects of +hard work and no play. My smooth coat had grown +rough, my ankles swelled from too much wearisome +travel, and I was tired all the time, very tired. I +should have really suffered now from the cold but for +an old piece of carpet that was thrown over me at +night.</p> + +<p>Oh, how I longed for the home farm, or Mr. Bolt’s +warm stall, or Mr. Van Vim’s well kept stable, with +Tillings to care for my pony wants!</p> +<br> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="i_052a" style="max-width: 42.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_052a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + OH! HOW I LONGED FOR THE HOME FARM! + </figcaption> +</figure> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII"> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Pretty</span> soon I began to hear talk about going +into “winter quarters.” I didn’t know what +this meant, but in time it was going to be understood. +Through September we had mild, beautiful days, and +the first part of the month the nights were not so bad, +seeing I had the piece of carpeting to keep me warm. +Business was still brisk during the evening, and our +tramps were taken as usual.</p> + +<p>But one night toward the last of the month there +came a terrible rain storm. Oh, how the winds +whistled through the piece of woods, and how the wet, +brown leaves came twirling down! The big tent +shook as if the stout poles and thole pins would not +be strong enough to keep it erect.</p> + +<p>Great sheets of rubber cloth were stretched and +fastened outside, while a little charcoal stove made +the inside comfortable. The wind sent whiffs laden +with the scent of steeping tea across to where I stood, +not half protected from mighty gusts of wind and +rain.</p> + +<p>The storm passed, but my joints were left stiff and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>sore from unkind exposure. Dancing was out of +the question, neither could I journey forth at night +laden with boxes and the weight of a child. My old +enemy, asthma, returned, and after two nights the +men had raised a rude shed in which I felt some approach +to comfort.</p> + +<p>This was doubtless felt to be a necessity, for I +heard Rondo say to Nick: “We can’t afford to lose +him, the best pony we ever had.”</p> + +<p>I did not know in just what way he might “lose” +me, but I confess to feeling that I didn’t much care +what became of me. I had become nothing better +than one of those “pack horses” I had heard talked +of at Van Vim’s stable.</p> + +<p>Yet even they were better off than I. For being +naturally beasts of burden, did I not once hear Mr. +Van Vim telling of a pair of short, hardy Percheron +draught-horses, splendid creatures of style, strength +and endurance, that could do their twelve hours of +hauling day after day, and seem not a whit worn +from month to month?</p> + +<p>I was not cut out for a beast of burden, yet that +was what I had become.</p> + +<p>October came while I was still wheezing with +asthma, although getting better from day to day. +The stiffness also was getting out of my joints, but +with that horse sense which often serves dumb +animals well, I still pretended great stiffness, for I +knew that once I appeared able to get about with anything +like ease, I would have to do severe work in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span>helping to move heavy loads, for now the tribe was +all ready for winter quarters.</p> + +<p>It was getting far too cold to pitch the flimsy tent +at the outskirts of villages; even the young people +now preferred indoor sports, and it was plain to see +that gipsying was over for the season.</p> + +<p>It was just at this time, when the camp was about +to break up, that Nick, boy of all work, tent cleaner, +pony tender and errand boy, was taken ill, and Rondo +with great unwillingness declared that another boy +must be hired for a few days. No time must be lost +in moving, as the authorities had given notice that +they must move on.</p> + +<p>I had learned many things about gipsies during +the nearly quarter of a year I had been with them. +Above all, that they desire secrecy, seclusion, to be +let alone by people from outside. To this end they +avoid all help except such as their own company can +furnish. The same few persons will keep together +year after year, as it is deemed a misfortune to +receive even new members to what is called “the +tribe.”</p> + +<p>Each one, even to the children, has his or her special +work to do. They bought almost nothing in the +way of wearing apparel at this camp. One woman +begged such clothing as was needed, mended and kept +it decent. Mother Hubbard cooked, washed dishes +and told fortunes at night.</p> + +<p>Nick’s duties have already been told. Now he +was down with fever symptoms at a time when he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>was specially needed, and someone must be hired for +a few days to help.</p> + +<p>From all accounts it appeared that many miles distant +was a broken down building, half house, half +barn, where they managed to live for the winter. +Their journey to this place must be taken within a +few days.</p> + +<p>Rondo was anxious and snappish, Mother Hubbard +also vexed and disappointed at being obliged to wait, +and to hire help in getting necessary preparations +made.</p> + +<p>“I shall get a raw hand, and get rid of him +soon as possible,” was Rondo’s remark as out he +started in quest of the “raw hand.” He did not +return until near night, then all I could see was that +he had someone with him.</p> + +<p>Ah, but what was this? Why at the sound of the +new voice did my sides suddenly quiver with excitement +and my nostrils dilate with expectancy?</p> + +<p>Surely I had heard that voice before! And +strangely enough too, at a time when I was yearning +for sympathy and aid.</p> + +<p>There were duties claiming Rondo’s attention +when he returned, and I had not been fed since early +noon. So the new boy was sent to give me my dry, +coarse food, fasten on my carpet blanket, and shut +the loose door of the shed for the night.</p> + +<p>Oh, oh! how like music came the familiar tones!</p> + +<p>“Hulloo, hossy, how are you? Well, well, what’s +got you? Been sick? Lame in the joints, hey?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p> + +<p>He lifted a lantern and eyed me at close range.</p> + +<p>“Jolly! but you make me think of a gay little +duck of a pony I knew once, a fine dashing little +fellow, all spirit and fire, but you’re thinner than he +was, much thinner; besides, he was a bay, and you’re +black as Egypt.”</p> + +<p>Could I but have cried out, how thankful would I +have been! But, how happened it that this sunny-haired, +sunny-tempered lad had wandered from +Greenpoint, to this woodsy place, many miles distant +as it was?</p> + +<p>Ah, but did he not whisper to me that day when +Perley Bolt had left me to myself: “Between you +and me, pony dear, I don’t get the care I might have. +But I’m going to work to take care of myself before +long, then I’ll have a fair chance perhaps: may own a +fine bit of a hossy myself some day.”</p> + +<p>Hope was strong within me that when daylight +came he would see things more clearly. But alas! so +deeply ingrained had become the black stain completely +covering me there seemed little likelihood of +being able to make myself known. They called the +boy “Archie,” and to my delight he was sent again +to feed me in the morning. His habit of talking +while working was a great comfort.</p> + +<p>“Now, hossy,” he began, “you’re going to be well +curried, for sadly you need it, but first you must be +watered and given something to eat. You breathe +better than you did last night, but these joints are +pretty stiff yet, I see.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> + +<p>“Phew! you ought to have hot mashes these brisk +mornings, and your legs ought to be poulticed overnight. +They haven’t half cared for you, have they, +boy? Never mind, you’ll be better one of these days, +only I sha’n’t be here to see. I’m on my own hook +now, earning here a little, there a little. I’m going +to be what they call a ‘vet,’ a veterinary doctor, able +to take care of ailing horses and other animals. I +love a nice hossy, as I do a nice man, and never a +rough touch will any creature o’ God’s get at my +hands.”</p> + +<p>He was rapidly preparing my meagre breakfast as +he talked, and while so busy Rondo came to the shed, +saying he wished to comb me himself.</p> + +<p>Oh, what a disappointment! For I had thought +that the vigorous combing Archie would give me, +might rub off some of that false colouring and set his +quick wits working in a way to lead to a discovery.</p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon it became necessary for +Rondo to take a long tramp, seeking certain supplies +from the distant village. Also there came a welcome +call for Mother Hubbard to tell fortunes at a fair to +be held in the village. Caring nothing for the walk +of two miles and more, out set the pair, to be absent +nearly the rest of the day.</p> + +<p>Archie had been given orders to put fresh straw in +my shaky stall, a thing greatly needed, also to nail +on a few shingles where the rain could run in rather +too freely.</p> + +<p>Hope again rose within me as he promptly set +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span>about doing as he had been told. I learned that +Nick was some better, but still confined to his mattress +of straw in the chilly tent. As usual Archie +began talking as he worked:—</p> + +<p>“I should think it was high time something was +done to this draughty place, Mister Pony. It needs +more than about half a dozen shingles to make it fit +for any kind of a creature to sleep in, but I’m going +to get out of this as soon as I can: had to sleep last +night rolled in a blanket, but thank fortune, ’twas +my own! Carry it in a big roll wherever I go: that, +and a comb, toothbrush and a couple of decent towels.”</p> + +<p>“Lord Rondo offered me good pay to take another +boy’s place for a few days, but the other boy +must get well quick for I don’t think much of this +crowd.”</p> + +<p>He broke into a merry whistle, as out he thrust +the old grass that had grown damp and musty in the +miserable shed, then, still whistling blithely, he began +bringing in a little straw, and such dry underbrush +as he could find.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII"> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Could</span> I not make some sound or sign to make +him understand? I turned on him eager eyes +and whinnied in a low, urgent manner.</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly and looked at me attentively.</p> + +<p>“Jolly!” he cried, “how exactly you whinny +like that little hossy I knew a few months ago.”</p> + +<p>I tried again, stretching far my neck in endeavour +to reach his kindly hands.</p> + +<p>He dropped a mass of brush and came close to me.</p> + +<p>I rubbed my head against his shoulder, beseeching +in every way I could that he would find me out.</p> + +<p>The boy looked puzzled. “If only your coat +wasn’t so black,” he murmured, “I’d surely think +I knew you, but it couldn’t be a pony would change +like that.”</p> + +<p>He rubbed his hand along my neck. Ah! that was +just what I wanted him to do.</p> +<br> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="i_060a" style="max-width: 42.0625em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_060a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + HE STOPPED ABRUPTLY AND LOOKED AT ME ATTENTIVELY. + </figcaption> +</figure> +<br> + +<p>“How rough you are!” he murmured again. +“Not half combed. I wonder where Lord Rondo +keeps the curry? He didn’t tell me not to use it; +perhaps thought I wouldn’t know how. Ah, I see it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>on this nail. Great comb I should say: stumpy, +harsh, bah! What a thing to use on a decent pony!”</p> + +<p>He ran it slowly, deeply, along my neck, then +paused and looked at it. I trembled with joy and +anxiety.</p> + +<p>“I never felt such sticky, stubby hair on any +created beast before,” he said under his breath.</p> + +<p>I whinnied and moved close to him as I could.</p> + +<p>“You want a good, thorough cleaning, don’t you?” +he asked, his hand on my head.</p> + +<p>I tried to whinny. “Yes, oh, yes!”</p> + +<p>He ran the comb along the same place.</p> + +<p>“You look brown where I’ve scraped,” he said, +the puzzled look deepening on his face.</p> + +<p>“Hossy,” he cried softly, “I’m going to <em>wash</em> +you where I’ve combed and scraped, but don’t +tell.”</p> + +<p>He went out and was gone some time. When he +came back he had found a rag and a bit of soap. Then +he rubbed and rubbed. Finally he gave a long, low, +and much surprised whistle.</p> + +<p>“As true as you’re a born pony, you’re a <em>bay</em>,” he +said, “and—jinks! but I understand!”</p> + +<p>I stamped, whinnied and stepped and stepped +with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll find you out fast enough now, I reckon,” +he added, as if in reply to my urgent antics.</p> + +<p>He felt my fetlock, carried a slow, cautious hand +across my left knee; “Yes, that’s where it was hurt +and swelled,” he ruminated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<p>I switched my tail and fairly nodded my head, +trying to assure him he was perfectly correct.</p> + +<p>Then to my joy he looked into my mouth.</p> + +<p>“The very hossy!” he exclaimed with a gleesome +chuckle. “I said I should want to know you if we +met again, and here we are! Nippers show over +three years of age, milk teeth all gone. Now, Mister +Pony, let me tell you a story:—”</p> + +<p>“There was a great hullabaloo when a certain +pony’s stall was found empty one morning early in +last July. Tillings at Mr. Van Vim’s stable was wild +about it. He was sure the stable door was securely +bolted the night before, and no sound reached him +during the night.”</p> + +<p>“The meanest thing about it was”—the lively +voice dropped, and it was in hurt, grieved tones that +the boy went on, “Perley Bolt, your former master, +raised a story that I, <em>I</em> had let you out!” I looked +around. “Oh, I know you well enough now,” he +said with decision; “you’re the ‘Dexter’ that disappeared +from Greenpoint three months ago, and has +not been heard from since.”</p> + +<p>“You see, Perley Bolt never forgave my helping +poor pony the day he was left tied, head up, in +the sun, without food or water and with a hurt +knee.”</p> + +<p>“More than one person was sadly put out by your +disappearance. Mr. Van Vim felt you a considerable +loss. Perley Bolt made a great noise about it; +blustered, scolded and said you must be found, as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span>he considered you were almost as good as his again, +and finally tried to fasten the matter on me.”</p> + +<p>“I am thankful to say the story was so ridiculous +no one believed it, for those who knew me best, knew +me for at least an honest boy, who would have +wronged no one in such a way. Besides, when they +looked around in the morning, there were footprints +in the mud where the hose had been used before the +stable door, that must have been made by a man wearing +about a number ten shoe. Such a shoe as Lord +Rondo must wear.”</p> + +<p>“I had been working for my half-uncle, a hard, +driving man, who would give me no chance for study, +paid me almost nothing, and never praised me even +when I became almost sick in my efforts to please +him.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the person who felt the worst over your +vanishing, next to Mr. Van Vim and Tillings, was +Mr. Clifton Moore. He is soon to marry sweet +Gladys Fleming, and as she was very much in love +with you, he had it all arranged that you were to be +one of his wedding presents. Perley Bolt would not +have got you anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Now I must think up what to do. I’ve been +going westward, hoping to get steady work, but I’ll +get you back where you belong somehow,—see if I +don’t!”.</p> + +<p>After a few moments I heard the boy mutter, +“Now I must cover up my tracks;” and after a +long search he came with the familiar pot of black +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>juice in his hand, and carefully smoothed over where +he had rubbed the blackness off.</p> + +<p>My heart seemed at rest. When, or in what +manner “Archie” would restore me to rightful +owners I could not tell. But the very idea of occupying +what now looked to me like the most luxurious +place in the world, my box stall at Van Vim’s stable, +and receiving Tillings’ skilled care, was enough to +make me patient and almost content.</p> + +<p>True, I was kept in the dark a number of days as +to what Archie intended to do, for there was further +delay; Nick’s recovery was tryingly slow, and +Archie had stayed on for a week, when one morning +he came to the shed, his face troubled, his voice +trembling with indignation.</p> + +<p>“Hossy,” he began, “your time has come; <em>our</em> +time I mean. Rondo refuses to pay me what he +promised. He says I have only earned my keep. +He agreed to give me fifty cents a day in money: +little enough for what I’ve had to do and the miserable +scraps of food I’ve had to put up with.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure now that he was the one who stole you, +for last night when I was snoring to pretend sleep, I +heard Mother Hubbard ask:”</p> + +<p>“‘Wot would you do, Rondo, if Greenpoint folks +found out as you took Don?’”</p> + +<p>“I heard an angry cluck, then all was still.”</p> + +<p>“Mother Hubbard took great risk in asking such a +question when I was in the tent, even if I was asleep, +and even though she never supposed I had ever heard +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>of such a place as Greenpoint. Be patient a bit +longer, Pony Dexter, and we’ll see what we’ll see.”</p> + +<p>At noon back he came to the shaky shed, his face +one broad grin, yet with a manner so quiet and +reliant, I knew something of importance was about +to happen.</p> + +<p>“Great luck, hossy,” he chuckled softly, “great +luck!”</p> + +<p>“Mother Hubbard goes to some kind of a ‘bazar’ +this afternoon in her fortune-telling rig. Nick must +have more medicine, and Rondo won’t trust me with +money to buy it. Besides, he wants to see a pedlar +about borrowing a big horse to help in moving certainly +by another week. He knows I intend making +off to-morrow, pay or no pay.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve told him ‘Don’ must be walked up and +down the road, or he’ll be too stiff to travel next week. +I hope you could walk pretty briskly now if you +tried.”</p> + +<p>I kicked out first one hoof, then another. He gave +me a sportive slap: “I do believe you could run,” he +said with another low chuckle. He went on:</p> + +<p>“Now, Dexter, I’m going to have my bundle all +ready at the edge of the woods, and as soon as Rondo +is out of sight I’ll lead you slowly along out to the +road, then—we’ll run for it!”</p> + +<p>“Fortunately Rondo goes in a different direction +from the one we must take, and if only you have the +courage and strength, we’ll be miles away from this +place before anyone knows we have gone.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> + +<p>Up came all my proud, hot blood. I no longer had +asthma. I no longer was lame. True, I trembled +like a leaf, but only because of my wild desire to be +out and away. With Archie on my back, how I +would romp and tear, leaving the gloomy woods and +the unkempt gipsy tribe far, far behind me.</p> + +<p>No knowledge and no care as to how the night +would be spent occurred to me; one thing was sure: +I should fare as well as my trusty rider, and all the +comfort he could devise would be mine.</p> + +<p>The grand moment came. Into the shed walked +Archie, a grave look on his young face. He knew +more than I did of the risk he was about to run, but +there was no hint of faltering.</p> + +<p>He had to quiet me as we left the shed, for I was +inclined to jump and caper at the joyful prospect +before me. In fact I was so frisky that only when +Archie turned as if to lead me back to the shed could +I come down upon my four feet and manage to walk +sedately along.</p> + +<p>“That’s right, pony,” he cheered, “it will be time +enough to show how smart you are when we take to +the road in earnest. For a noble trot there is before +you, my boy, before we’ll sail or swoop into harbour.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX"> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">At</span> the spot where he had left his great bundle, +Archie unrolled it, and doubling his blanket +into a square, put it on my back, for he had brought +away only the bridle which was rightfully mine. +This reduced what he had to carry to a quite moderate +package.</p> + +<p>Once fairly started, I still was not allowed to rush +or put forth all my strength.</p> + +<p>“Steady, steady there!” warned Archie; “prudence +is the word for you and me, pony boy; the way +will be as long as you can stand until to-night, and +will be still longer to-morrow. I hope to-morrow +night will see us at home, but you must not tire too +soon. Besides, there is no knowing what Lord Rondo +may do. He isn’t the man to let a fine pony escape +him if he can help it, even if it was stolen in the first +place.”</p> + +<p>“Keep on going, but don’t get winded before we +reach a place of possible concealment. So, ho, pony, +it looks as if we were on the high road to good times, +you and I! Let me tell you something not mentioned +before.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Van Vim has offered a handsome reward to +anyone discovering or bringing you back. I don’t +care for money just because it is money. I’d have +returned you, or told your whereabouts merely to +have seen right done, but if I should get a little help +to start me on my way, don’t you see what a thing +it would be for me?”</p> + +<p>“I could begin by helping an experienced horse +doctor, with perhaps a chance at some schooling. But +you see a chap must have clothes. I’ve got three +precious dollars earned by doing odd jobs, and I’ve +managed to find food and shelter for nearly two +months.”</p> + +<p>“That is all the money I own, and Rondo ought +to be ashamed of himself to go back on his word, but, +was I at all wise to trust a gipsy?”</p> + +<p>Away we went at a steady, sensible gait, and thankful +I was that breathing seemed easy, and my legs +after their rest of a few days had gained more +strength than I had supposed.</p> + +<p>Archie kept me to by-paths and back streets all he +could, yet taking care to follow the telegraph poles, +which he knew to be a guide. People did not appear +to take much notice of us as we tripped along. Fortunately +the weather had held mild, and before the +early dusk had fallen, not a few miles had been gone +over.</p> + +<p>As it grew darker the boy drove me to the back +of a barn at the rear of a house that had no tenants. +Here he tied me, saying, I thought a little anxiously:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> + +<p>“Now don’t whinny, or make any sound. I’ll soon +be back.”</p> + +<p>He went away, and I was glad on looking around +to see a neglected orchard back of me, a place where +it was not likely anyone would be strolling at that +hour. But I was relieved when my boy-rider returned, +a long, stout paper bag in his arms.</p> + +<p>He managed to mount, and with the paper bag +before him drove me on. There was a young moon +and by its light he guided me still further until we +came to what I felt sure he was looking for, a piece +of woods.</p> + +<p>The place was at the end of a long, straight road, +and in the stillness of night any sound could be heard +a long distance away. Into the shade of partially +leafless trees I was led, and from the big paper bag +was given a small measure of oats and hay.</p> + +<p>“Must keep some for to-morrow,” Archie said.</p> + +<p>From the pocket of his loose cardigan jacket he +took some crackers, which furnished all his meal. +Shortly before entering the rather too open dell, I +had stopped at more than one water trough, so I did +not suffer for a drink.</p> + +<p>Animals of nearly all kinds require a great deal +of water, but there was a joyous instinct keenly alive +that night making me feel sure of having as much +water as would be good for me, all in good time.</p> + +<p>The boy who was now my kindly keeper did some +strange things in preparation for the night. He appeared +to examine every foot of ground within a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span>large space. He also forgot to talk aloud as he peered +hither and yon. At length he gathered together a +great pile of leaves; oh, a very great pile. Spreading +his blanket on the ground, he bade me lie down. +As I did so, he spread a portion of the blanket over +me, so that it was both under me and forming a +coverlet.</p> + +<p>“Now, hossy,” he said, “it may be tough, but +you must do just as I say. After I get you fixed, +lie still, don’t attempt to roll over or lift your head, +but lie perfectly quiet.”</p> + +<p>Then he began heaping leaves over the blanket, +which fortunately were not damp, as they might have +been. I had sense enough to know he was hiding me. +My head was on a little mound which made it easier +for breathing, and tired as I was, sleep would not be +long delayed.</p> + +<p>Archie crouched at the foot of a still leafy tree. +I feared he would take cold, although under the cardigan +jacket was a decent sweater; but we were just +a boy and a pony trying to work our way to home and +proper shelter, not over strong either of us, and just +now rather unprotected.</p> + +<p>But the idea kept floating through my head: “Only +for to-night, only for to-night, and then our tribulation +will be over.” In broad daylight, the brawny +gipsy would not dare to follow and claim me, for +then, Archie could declare boldly that I had been +stolen, and investigation would follow.</p> + +<p>But in the dark and stilly night it would not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span>be pleasant to have him discover and overpower +us.</p> + +<p>It grew very quiet and very dark as the young +moon set and the night grew late. Even the few +crickets that had chirped for a while drowsed off into +silence. It must have been past the middle of the +night when pounding hoofs sounded from afar on +that long stretch of road.</p> + +<p>Then a rustling nearer at hand caused me to partly +raise my head and peep around. Archie was climbing +the leafy tree. He had caught the thud of those +heavy hoofs and was ascending to a place of safety +where he could see and not be seen.</p> + +<p>I curled under my nest of leaves, but kept ears +alert. The hearing of animals is acute. I knew by +the way that rider approached that his was an eager +quest. Two men were on the back of the powerful +horse that doubtless had been borrowed to aid in the +night search.</p> + +<p>At the strip of woods they halted, and the light +of a lantern flashed amidst the darkness. I heard +Rondo’s harsh voice say:</p> + +<p>“They can’t be here. We can see right through +the trees and there’s nothing tethered. I think the +spry young rogue would push on to that thicker bunch +of trees and tangle two miles farther on.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think the pony could go that far?” asked +the other. “I doubt me but we’re on the wrong track +altogether.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t croak,” snapped Rondo, “we’ll push ahead +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span>to the other thicket; the pony might be glad to get +away, and do better with his legs than we’d think +for.”</p> + +<p>Ah, Mister Rondo, you were right that time if +never before!</p> + +<p>He swung the lantern to his arm, made a circuit, +coming to within a few yards of where I lay quiet +as the leaves that covered me. I could imagine +how big the boy’s eyes must have grown as he +watched the search-party that now wheeled and rode +away.</p> + +<p>As the hoof beats grew distant, Archie came to +the ground, cowering close to me as if to get warmth +and comfort from my warm sides. I moved a little +to change my cramped position, while feeling glad +to have the boy near me. And very glad I was to +hear the tones of his voice.</p> + +<p>“That’s right, hossy, turn a little; it will relieve +you. But we must be wary. I think our pursuers +will come back when they miss us two miles ahead. +Now I must heap up these leaves again; it won’t do +to have an ear or a leg give a suspicion.”</p> + +<p>He scattered handfuls of leaves all about me, then +lay down close to my curious bed. Could he only +have been sure of the course Rondo had taken, we +might have stolen off in an opposite direction, but no +doubt the boy was wise in thinking it the best plan +to stay where we were.</p> + +<p>I felt as though another night had passed when +distant hoof beats again sent Archie climbing the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>tree after hastily scattering more evenly my covering +of leaves.</p> + +<p>The great horse came thumping along, stopping +short while the men took a second sharp look by lantern +light along the sombre network of bushes and +scattered trees. But neither figure of boy nor form +of pony were visible in the dampness and unbroken +stillness of the place.</p> + +<p>“They haven’t been here,” growled Rondo, pulling +a sharp rein, and clattering along the road, went +horse and men, but not on an unbroken trot. Every +little while they stopped, and it was evident, listened +if possibly the sound of a pony’s foot might reach +their ears.</p> + +<p>As all grew still again, back to my side came +Archie, his teeth chattering with cold and anxiety. +I sat up partly, enabling him to rest his head on my +shoulder, but I do not believe either of us slept for +a long time. Then I was glad when the sound of +heavy breathing told me the boy was sleeping, his +sunny head on my shoulder, his light form resting +against my side.</p> + +<p>I dozed too, for I was very tired. The trot of the +long afternoon, although deliberate, had taken a good +deal of pluck and strength, and the few hours of complete +rest now taken were worth a great deal. And +if I felt cramped from lying unusually long in one +position, not for anything would I have disturbed +the dear laddie, resting so quietly beside me.</p> + +<p>The pale light of an October morning was glimmering +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>through the trees when at length the boy +awoke.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, hossy,” he cried, a note of triumph in his +glad young voice: “here we are, all right! Now for +a make-believe rub, a bite of breakfast, then a long +pull and a hard pull, and if I’m not mistaken, we’ll +sleep in snug, warm quarters to-night—somewheres.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X"> + CHAPTER X + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> rest of the oats and hay were sweet to my +taste and I could have wished there had been +more; as for water, I must wait for that until some +friendly fount or trough appeared on the way.</p> + +<p>Archie ate a few crackers, shook out his sweater +and jacket and gave the blanket a vigorous flouncing, +but could do no more for me than to shake off or +pull away the damp leaves clinging to mane and tail. +The blanket was strapped to my back, and then to +the road again.</p> + +<p>It will always be my belief that that was the longest +day of my life. I was made to travel slowly from +the start, and it was fortunate that such was the case: +otherwise I never could have accomplished such a +tramp. Archie, too, walked miles, for every little +while he would dismount and stride along beside me.</p> + +<p>At noon, my legs began to ache, I did not breathe +quite easily, and had it not been for the belief that +by night the hard journey would be over I feel sure +discouragement would have overtaken me. And an +unlooked for trial was before us.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon, Archie stopped at a store +where “hay, grain and feed,” was on a sign over the +door, and suddenly came face to face with the man, +Rondo.</p> + +<p>“Ah, my fine, honest friend,” the man began, “so +you thought to make off with my pony, Don, did you? +Well, you see I can travel by train faster than you +can pony-back. Now I’ll trouble you to get off, and +let me get on that sprightly Don.”</p> + +<p>“No, I sha’n’t,” said Archie stoutly. “This pony +belongs to Mr. Van Vim of Greenpoint, and I’m going +to take him home. He was stolen away last July, +and his name is Dexter, not Don at all.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t prove that,” roared Rondo. “I’ll call +a policeman and tell him you are a young thief.”</p> + +<p>“Call away,” said Archie. “This little hoss has +been advertised for, and I’ll ask Mr. Policeman to +give the pony a scrub and see him turn from rough +black, to a smooth, handsome bay.”</p> + +<p>At that, the gipsy said some very improper words +but moved off muttering:</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d caught you in the night, you young +cub!”</p> + +<p>Archie made no reply, but I was glad Rondo had +found out that we knew how I came to be a trick +pony in his unclean camp. We saw no more of him. +He had reason to be afraid of us, while we had no +reason to be afraid of him, seeing we were not alone +or in the dark.</p> +<br> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="i_076a" style="max-width: 42.1875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_076a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + SUDDENLY CAME FACE TO FACE WITH THE MAN RONDO. + </figcaption> +</figure> +<br> + +<p>Again, mile after mile was passed during the afternoon, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span>and until the early darkness fell. At last +the way became familiar. Ah, how good it seemed! +Here were outlying places where I had galloped and +romped, first with Perley Bolt on my back, then with +the lark-loving boys who hired me from Van Vim’s. +Tillings also had exercised me along these smooth +roads, and there was the great auto building and track +where the races had taken place.</p> + +<p>Oh, joy! I could almost see the snug, warm box +stall at Mr. Van Vim’s livery, and smell the clover-laden +hay as wearily, haltingly and nearly spent, I +reached the stable door.</p> + +<p>There was Tillings taking in a great pitchforkful +of bedding from a side door, and at the boy’s sharp +whistle he paused, a curious look of inquiry on his +ruddy face.</p> + +<p>“Hulloo, Tillings,” Archie sung out in his blithest +tones.</p> + +<p>“Hulloo, yourself,” Tillings replied aghast: +“thought you’d started out to find your fortune, +Archie Train. What forlorn little beast you got +there?”</p> + +<p>“It’s Dexter, I’ve brought him home.”</p> + +<p>Archie spoke quietly, yet I felt him quiver with +satisfaction and delight. Tillings replied in disgust,</p> + +<p>“No, you don’t! That sorry little nag any relation +to Dexter? No, oh, no! You can’t come that +over me!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but I’ve the great story to tell you, Tillings. +First, though, the poor little hoss wants everything +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>the stable can do for him. He’s cold, hungry, thirsty +and footsore and lame from almost endless travel. +He’s been worked, half fed, and exposed, until he’s +poor as a crow. Then again he’s been painted black +right over his natural coat of bay.”</p> + +<p>Tillings by this time was standing open-mouthed, +the pitchfork of straw tilting ludicrously in mid-air.</p> + +<p>“Where’s he been?” he gasped.</p> + +<p>“Off in a gipsy tent. Gipsies stole him. They’ve +taught him to dance and show off. Come now, I tell +you the poor little hoss is all used up.”</p> + +<p>For answer, Tillings rushed into the stable, threw +the bedding into a stall, and called lustily:</p> + +<p>“Misther Van Vim! Misther Van Vim! will ye +be comin’ here, plaze.”</p> + +<p>In a moment Mr. Van Vim appeared, and Tillings +jabbered off the strange story just heard as if only +half believing it. Meantime Archie stood holding +me by the bridle.</p> + +<p>“Take care of the poor little fellow,” Mr. Van +Vim ordered. “And you, Archie Train,” he added, +“had better go and stay with Widow Hebble for a +few days; she will be glad of your help, I know; then +something may turn up for you to do. But I want +to ask one thing: please say nothing to anyone about +Dexter’s return. I have my own reasons, for not +wanting it known at present. I hope you will oblige +me in this respect.”</p> + +<p>Archie promised to keep the matter strictly to himself, +waved me a cheery good-bye, and went his way, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span>leaving me thankful at knowing he had a good place +awaiting him.</p> + +<p>How could a pony describe the comfort and +luxury of what followed for me! Exhausted as I +was, Tillings knew all about the refreshment and +renewing that would come through needed treatment.</p> + +<p>First, I was watered, but not too freely, then fed, +oh, how delightfully! Never can I forget the satisfaction +and healing of that hot mash! It was only +bran thoroughly scalded with a little meal added, but +it really gave me strength for what Tillings thought +should be done before letting me lie down for the +night.</p> + +<p>Next into the washing trough went pails of hot +water. But before washing, Tillings put some strong +smelling stuff all over me. I know now it was to +make that colouring matter come off the more easily. +The man worked more than an hour, talking and +scolding to himself as spongeful after spongeful of +dark, sticky stuff yielded to the vigorous rubbing and +was washed away.</p> + +<p>Three times the trough was filled before Tillings +considered me cleansed. Then how good the curry +comb and drying cloths felt. At last I was all soft, +glossy and <em>bay</em>!</p> + +<p>Tillings, surveying his work, cried almost with a +sob:</p> + +<p>“Lean as a starved cat ye are and weak as a new +baby; but it’s plump as a patridge an’ sassy as a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>magpie we’ll be havin’ you in no time, that we will, +thin!”</p> + +<p>He added more in his own jolly tones:</p> + +<p>“Your oarn toasty blanket will cover ye all spick +an’ span; now to bed wid ye, an’ if there’s a claner, +more promisin’ little hoss than you be th’ night, jes’ +trot him up, an’ I’ll be takin’ off me hat till him; +I will that!”</p> + +<p>He led me to my beautiful, longed for stall. Then +what glory! In my own fine bay coat, clean, well-fed, +and having been abundantly watered, I laid me +down to such sweet, untroubled sleep as I had not +known for many a long week.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI"> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Early</span> the next morning, Tillings had me out +for another thorough wash and such a combing +as a boy would have called “fierce.” He surely had +some reason for wishing me to look my best, and I +was willing to believe him when he said I looked +like “velvet,” whatever that may be.</p> + +<p>My breakfast of oats, timothy and clover, put still +further new life into me, and everything took on a +fresh, bright look on that cool October morning.</p> + +<p>No sooner was I polished for the day than in came +Mr. Van Vim and with him a gentleman that I did +not at first recognize. They came directly to my +stall.</p> + +<p>“You see,” Mr. Van Vim began, “he is the same +fine, shapely little fellow he always was, very thin +just now, but that is owing to having been overworked +and underfed. In a couple of months he’ll be the +Dexter of last spring, fleet of foot, sound of limb, as +clipper a little pony chap as ever stood.”</p> + +<p>“Perley Bolt has given me no rest in his craze to +know if the pony has been found. He would be glad +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>to pay more for him than in the first place. But I’d +rather not sell him back to young Bolt. He’s a heady +lad, and apt to forget that animals have feelings.”</p> + +<p>By that time I knew the gentleman for Mr. Clifton +Moore, who was to marry pretty Gladys Fleming. +Was he about to buy me? If so, what cheer! For +although I had the best of care at Mr. Van Vim’s, +yet it was a livery stable, and there was no knowing +who might come along and hire me, or become my +master.</p> + +<p>It was a pleasure to find that Tillings had the same +habit as Archie of talking to himself aloud or to an +animal he might be grooming, for in that way I found +out a great deal that otherwise I would not have +known.</p> + +<p>In fact I have noticed that most men and boys +are apt to address an animal, giving considerable +confidence, as if sure of not being betrayed. They +never are. And we really and truly understand +much more than human beings suppose us able +to.</p> + +<p>As days went by I found that a good deal of +secrecy was being observed concerning me. I felt it +must be that Mr. Van Vim and Tillings were taking +great care to conceal the fact of my return, and I of +course remembered the charge that had been given +Archie not to speak of me.</p> + +<p>I was led several times around the stable yard +early in the morning and again after dark for exercise, +but at other times was kept in my stall, where no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span>one from outside would be likely to see me. Orders +to the stable hands would doubtless be obeyed.</p> + +<p>One morning on bringing me my oats and hay +Tillings broke out:</p> + +<p>“Ah, th’ jolly b’y you’re gettin’ to be, an’ not belonging +to us anny more aither! Whist, whilst I tells +ye: Misther Moore was on th’ point o’ buying Marco +Boo, young Will Barrows’ spruce young pony, when +Marco ups and throws Misther Will, cracking one o’ +his ribs.”</p> + +<p>“Will, he confessed to bein’ at teasing Marco by +ticklin’ first one ear, then th’ other, but Misther +Moore he wouldn’t thrust his sweetheart ov a lady +with anny beastie wotever that wud toss a rider even +wor it bein’ teased. It’s the patience ye hev to hev! +An’ it’s th’ poor dumb crathers that must offn be +found fault with, wen it’s th’ young oarner that’s to +be blamed.”</p> + +<p>So much I learned from Tillings: yet I was left +in the dark as to whether it was Mr. Moore who had +bought me.</p> + +<p>Another day while Tillings was grooming me, he +began:</p> + +<p>“Faix, and it’s the sly dogs are them gipsies! The +boy as brought you back told some secret officers, as +Mr. Van Vim had him to, where the rogues wor encamped, +an’ right away th’ very nex’ day the police +was afther thim; but naither hide nor hair, trace nor +trail cud they find. Off in the night they’d sthrayed, +an’ not a rag left on th’ way.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> + +<p>“P’raps it’s jus’ as well. A brave bit av a lad is +Archibald Train. Good luck till him! An’ good +luck will it be to anny animal as comes under his +hands, be it dog, horse or pony. ’Tis th’ gentil touch +he hev that coodles thim over to onct.”</p> + +<p>Tillings left me unsatisfied. What about Archie—Archibald +Train? Tillings said just enough to +make me curious, forgetting I did not know his +thought although hearing his words.</p> + +<p>But one glowing day soon afterward it was all +made plain. Into my stall bounced Archie, bright-eyed, +joy and gladness written all over his boyish +face. He began in the old, familiar way:</p> + +<p>“Hulloo, hossy, my, but aren’t you getting the +boss for looks! The cock of your ears is grander than +ever. Your neck arches like the pictures of those +swans, and the gloss you’ve got on you!”</p> + +<p>“Have they told you the news, hossy dear? +P’raps not, because it’s a great secret, and a secret +they are bound to keep it until the right moment +comes for things to be known.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know to whom you belong? Well, just +now your owner is Mr. Clifton Moore, but the last +of the month you will be the property of <em>Mrs.</em> Clifton +Moore.”</p> + +<p>“You’re all bought, hossy, and have you heard of +the fine new stable that is going up?”</p> + +<p>I gave a little stamp to show my interest.</p> + +<p>“No? Well, there’s a fine new house going up +not far from here, and at the back of it, they’re building +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>a very pretty stable. When Mr. Moore gets married +he is to take his lovely wife to the new house, +and you are to be one of his wedding presents to the +beautiful Gladys, your home to be in the brand new +stable, and for a little while I am to care for you.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you get combed and fed? And won’t your +fine bay coat have a shine on it that won’t come off? +We’ll see, we’ll see! Another hossy will keep you +company there.”</p> + +<p>“That high-blooded Arabian will have a wide box +stall, and an older groom is to look after us all. But +Mistress Gladys is to know nothing about your being +on hand until she sees you in the stall, then, won’t +she dance?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Moore knows how much she was pleased with +you and her desire to have her father buy you. And +very badly she felt on hearing that you had been +spirited away. Not that she had any great hopes of +your becoming her pony, for Perley Bolt has told up +and down, high and low, that some time he should +get you back.”</p> + +<p>“Perley Bolt knows nothing of your being in town. +Wouldn’t he raise a rumpus if he heard? Not that +it would do any good if he did; but Mr. Van Vim +says quiet ways are always the best.”</p> + +<p>“Nighty-night, hossy. Great days coming for you +and me. Look sharp, they’ll soon be here.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>So here I am, the luckiest pony in the world. +Three box stalls are in the well-built, convenient +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span>stable where I have my home. The mottled Arabian +occupies one, and the third is reserved as an “extra,” +a good thing to have, and likely to come in use at +any time.</p> + +<p>Dick, the older groom, knows so much about +horses it is a pleasure to watch him go about caring +for us both. Does a joint swell? He knows exactly +the liniment or salve that will put it down at once. +Does the Araby beauty “strike” or “interfere”? +Dick has a “boot” on in time to prevent serious +mischief. Is either of us threatened with colic? +Dick is the boy that forces something down our +throats, stopping the pain in a trice.</p> + +<p>Tillings had me clear of threatened asthma, in less +than a week after my return from the camp, and he +showed skill in bandaging my knee, so that that +too became rid of all bad symptoms, caused by +too much dancing and burden-bearing in the gypsy +camp.</p> + +<p>Was not Gladys indeed a gladsome creature when +she saw me? After hearing my story and knowing +I had been rescued and returned to become her own +dear pony, her delight was like that of a happy, overjoyed +child.</p> + +<p>I think her husband must have felt repaid for having +so promptly secured me, in seeing her great satisfaction. +And won’t I bear her carefully over the +road, fly with her, nimble and sure-footed on the +merry fox hunt, speed evenly and without stumbling +on the morning gallop, or race for her without +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>breaking should there be another test of pony +speed?</p> + +<p>Archie said, in telling of the new home, that he was +to care for me for a little while.</p> + +<p>Yes; I am his special care. But I have gleaned +the fact that he is to go to school as a boy of his age +should. He has a home with the “Widow Hebble,” +a good motherly woman who looks after him with +kindly interest, receiving in turn a portion of his +moderate wages with Mr. Moore, and the many helpful +turns the boy is able to give her.</p> + +<p>Dick tells him that when he is through school there +will be plenty of skilled veterinary surgeons who will +be glad of his assistance, meantime teaching him how +to care for and cure ailing and valuable animals.</p> + +<p>One day, Perley Bolt saw me in a paddock by the +stable door.</p> + +<p>“Handsomer than ever!” he muttered, eyeing me +ruefully. “If ever I own a fine pony like you again, +I hope I’ll know enough to treat him decently.”</p> + +<p>So it may be Perley will grow sensible as he grows +older.</p> + +<p>I was glad to hear Dick telling Archie one day, +that Marco Boo had been sold to a boy of a kind and +gentle disposition who had no trouble with him at all. +Marco is deserving of the best of treatment, and will +be steady and willing, I feel sure, with a young master +of the right kind.</p> + +<p>I must tell how amused I was at something Dick +said the other day. He had been chattering away +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>half to himself and half to the Arabian when he said +briskly:</p> + +<p>“I tell you that young mistress o’ yours needs +watchin’! Apples and lump sugar are all very well +for hosses and ponies once in a while. But apples +and sugar given too frequent brings on colic and all +sorts o’ jim jams.”</p> + +<p>But my laughing young mistress calls on me very +often, especially when it is too stormy for her to go +out. Whether Dick is “watchin’” or not she usually +gives me a great lump of loaf sugar, and merrily +enough I champ it down.</p> + +<p>I don’t believe sugar hurts ponies. And how I do +love a great glistening chunk of white lump sugar!</p> + +<p>But better than that, and far better than all else +in the world, do I love my fair young mistress, and +dear Archie Train.</p> +<br> +<br> +<p class="center no-indent">THE END.</p> +<br> +<br> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78664 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |