THE BAY COLT LEARNS TO MIND
The span of Bays were talking together in their stalls, and the otherHorses were listening. That was one trouble with living in the barn, youcould not say anything to your next-door neighbor without somebody elsehearing. The farmer had solid walls between the stalls, with openings sofar back that no Horse could get his head to them without breaking hishalter. This had been done to keep them from biting each other, and asnobody but the Dappled Gray ever thought of doing such a thing, it wasrather hard on the rest. It made it difficult for the mothers to bringup their children properly, for after a Colt was old enough to have astall to himself, his mother had to call out her advice and warnings soloudly that everybody could hear, and you know it is not well to reprovea child before company if it can be helped. Indeed, it was this veryquestion that was troubling the span of Bays now. Each of them had atwo-year-old Colt, and they knew that it was nearly time for the farmerto put these Colts to work. The span of Bays were sisters, so of coursetheir children were cousins, and they were all very fond of each otherand of the Blind Horse, who was the uncle of the Bays and thegreat-uncle of the Bay Colt and the Gray Colt.
"I am worried about the Bay Colt," said his mother. "Since he wasbrought into the barn last fall and had a stall away from me, he hasgotten into bad ways. I have told him again and again that he must notnibble the edge of the manger, yet the first thing I heard this morningwas the grating of his teeth on the wood."
"Well," said his aunt, "you know he is teething, and that may be thereason."
"That is no excuse," said his mother sternly. "He has been teething eversince he was five days old, and he will not cut his last tooth for threeyears yet. I don't call it goodness to keep from cribbing when you don'twant to crib, and the time to stop is now. Besides, if he waits until hehas all his teeth, he won't be able to break himself of the habit whenhe does try."
"That is so," said his aunt, "and he will ruin his teeth, too."
"Pooh!" exclaimed the Bay Colt, who had heard what they were saying. "Ican stop whenever I want to, and they're my own teeth, anyway. It isn'tanybody else's business if I do ruin them."
"There!" said his mother to his aunt, "you see what I mean. That is justthe way he talks all the time. Now what would you do?"
"Let him alone," snorted the Dappled Gray. "Let him alone, and he willget some Horse sense after he has been broken. He'll have a hard time ofit, but he'll come out all right."
The Bay Colt kicked against the side of the stall, he was so vexed."I'll thank you to let me alone," said he. "I don't see why everybodytells me what I ought to do. Guess I know a thing or two."
"I'll tell you why," said the Dappled Gray, in a voice that sounded asthough he were trying very hard not to lose his temper. "It is becauseyou are young and we like you, and we can save you trouble if you mindwhat we tell you. I had lost the black pits in my front teeth before youwere born, and when a Horse has lived long enough to lose the black pitsfrom his front teeth, he knows a good deal. You don't know a curb-bitfrom a snaffle now, but you will learn many things when you arebroken--a very great many things."
The Bay Colt tossed his head and did not answer. When he was led out todrink, the Dappled Gray spoke quickly to his friends. "We will let himalone," said he, "as he wishes. We will not advise him until he asks usto do so." They were all whinnying "Yes" when the Bay Colt came back.Then it became so still that you could have heard a stem of hay drop.
For a few days after this, the Bay Colt had a very good time. Nobodygave him any advice, and even when he gnawed at the edge of the manger,his mother did not seem to notice it. After he found that she didn't sayanything, he didn't gnaw, or crib, so much. He was such a foolish andcontrary young fellow that when people told him not to do a thing, healways wanted to do that thing worse than anything else in the world.His cousin, the Gray Colt, was not at all like him. She was a gentlelittle two-year-old whom everybody loved. She was full of fun and wasthe gayest possible companion in the meadow, yet when the older Horsesgave her advice, she always listened and obeyed.
The Bay Colt was very fond of his cousin, but he did like to tease her,and once in the fall, before they came to stay in the barn, he calledher a "goody-goody" because she wouldn't jump the fence and run awaywith him. He said she wouldn't do such things because she didn't knowwhat fun was. Then she did show that she had a temper, for her browneyes snapped and her soft lips were raised until she showed all herbiting teeth. "I'm not a 'goody-goody,'" she cried, stamping the groundwith her pretty little hoofs, "and I just ache to go. I feel as thoughthere were ropes that I couldn't see, pulling me toward that fenceevery time I think of it, but I won't go! I won't go! My mother saysthat she jumped a fence and ran away when she was a Colt, and that shefelt as mean as could be afterward."
"I don't care," said her cousin, "I'm going anyway, and you can stay athome if you want to. Good-bye!" He ran and leaped over the fence, andtrotted down the road with his head well up and his tail in the air. Andthen how the Gray Colt did want to follow! "I won't!" she said again. "Iwon't do it. I'll look the other way and try to forget it, but I wish heknew how hard it is to be good sometimes."
The next morning the Bay Colt was in the pasture again. The farmer andhis man had found him far away and led him back. "I had a fine time," hesaid to his cousin, "and I don't feel a bit mean. I'm going againto-day, but don't you tell." When his mother scolded him as hedeserved, he just switched his tail and thought about something elseuntil she stopped talking. Then he ran away again.
The next morning when the Gray Colt saw him, he had a queer wooden thingaround his neck, and fastened to this was a pole that stuck out ahead ofhim. It tired his neck and bothered him when he wanted to run. If he hadtried to jump the fence, it would have thrown him down. When the GrayColt came toward him, he pretended not to see her. He might just as wellhave looked squarely at her as soon as she came, because, you know, hehad to look at her sometime, but he had a mean, slinking, afraidfeeling, such as people always have when they have done something wrongand have had time to think about it. Besides, he had changed his mindsince the wooden poke had been put on him, and somehow his running awayseemed very foolish now. He wondered how he could ever have thought itany fun, and he was so disgusted that he couldn't keep his ears still,but moved them restlessly when he remembered his own silliness.
The Gray Colt was too polite to say anything about his wearing the poke,and she talked about the grass, the sky, the trees, and everything elseshe could think of. Once she was about to speak of the fence, and thenshe remembered and stopped short. The Bay Colt noticed this. "You mightjust as well go on," said he. "You are very kind, but I know how foolishI have been, and there's no use in keeping still. You were right, and itdoesn't pay to jump fences for a few minutes of what you think will befun. I feel sick all over when I think about it."
"It's too bad," whinnied the Gray Colt. "I'm very sorry for you."
"And what do you think?" said the Bay Colt. "I heard the Dappled Graysay this morning that I was like a Pig! Imagine a Colt being like a Pig!He said that it didn't make any difference on which side of a fence Pigswere, they always wanted to be on the other side, and that I was just asstupid."
This was all in the fall, before the cold weather had sent them to livein the barn, and while the Bay Colt was wearing the poke he could notwell forget the lesson he had learned about jumping and running away.His mother grew quite proud of him, and the Dappled Gray had been heardto say that he might amount to something yet. That was a great deal forthe Dappled Gray to say, for although he had a very kind heart, he didnot often praise people, and hardly ever said such things abouttwo-year-olds. That made it all the harder for him when the Bay Coltbecame cross over being told to stop cribbing.
You know there are some Colts who learn obedience easily, and there areothers who have one hard struggle to stop jumping, and another to stopcribbing, and another to stop kicking, and so on, all through theirColthood. The older Horses are sorry for them and try to h
elp them, forthey know that neither Colt nor Horse can really enjoy life until he istrying to do right. To be sure, people sometimes do wrong even then, butif they will take advice and keep on trying they are certain to turn outwell.
And now, when the Bay Colt seemed to have forgotten the lesson he had inthe fall, and after he had told the other Horses to let him alone, verystrange things began to happen. The farmer took him from his stall andmade him open his mouth. Then a piece of iron was slipped into it, whichlay on top of his tongue and fitted into the place on each side of hisjaw where there were no teeth. Long lines were fastened to this iron oneither side, and when he tossed his head and sidled around, these lineswere gently pulled by the farmer and the iron bit pressed down histongue.
The farmer was very kind, but the Bay Colt did not want the bit in hismouth, so he acted as ugly as he knew how, and kicked, and snapped withhis jaws open, and tried to run. The farmer did not grow angry or cross,yet whenever the Bay Colt showed his temper, the bit would press downhis tongue and stretch the corners of his mouth until he had to stop.Once in a while the farmer would try to pat him and show him that it wasall right, but the Bay Colt would not have this, and he was a very crossand sweaty two-year-old when he was taken back to his stall.
He missed the Gray Colt from her usual place, but soon she came in withone of the farmer's men. She had been driven for the first time also.
"Hallo!" said he. "Have you had a bit in your mouth too? Wasn't itdreadful? I am so angry that my hoofs fairly tingle to hit that farmer."
"It was hard," said the Gray Colt, "but the man who drove me was verykind and let me rest often. He patted me, too, and that helped me to bebrave. My mother says we won't mind the bit at all after we are used toit."
"Well," said the Bay Colt, "I'm never going to be used to it. I won'tstand it, and that's all there is about it." He stamped his hoofs andlooked very important. Two-year-olds often look quite as important asten-year-olds, and they feel much more so. The Bay Colt was rather proudof his feet, and thought it much nicer to have solid hoofs than to havethem split, like those of the Cows, the Hogs, and the Sheep.
HAD A SORE MOUTH FROM JERKING ON THE LINES.]
When he said that he would not stand it to be driven, a queer littlesound ran through the stalls. It was like the wind passing over awheatfield, and was caused by the older Horses taking a long breath andwhispering to themselves. The Bay Colt's mother was saying, "Poor child!What hard work he does make of life!"
The next day both Colts were driven again, and the next day, and thenext, and the next. By this time the Gray Colt was quite used to it. Shesaid she rather enjoyed knowing what the man was thinking, and that shecould tell his thoughts by the feeling of the lines, much as she used tounderstand her mother by rubbing noses when she was a tiny Colt. Hercousin had a sore mouth from jerking on the lines, and he could notenjoy eating at all. That made it even harder for him, because he gotvery hungry, and it is not so easy to be sensible when one is hungry.
When the Gray Colt learned to walk steadily and turn as her driverwished, she was allowed to draw a light log through the furrows of afield. This tired her, but it made her very proud, and she arched herneck and took the daintiest of steps. It was not necessary that the logshould be drawn over the field; still, she did not know this, andthought it was real work, when it was done only to teach her to pull.The man who was driving her patted her neck and held her nose in hishand. When he stopped to eat an apple, he gave her the core, and shethought she had never tasted anything so good. As she went back to herstall, she called to the Horses near, "I have been working. I have drawna log all around a field."
The Blind Horse spoke softly to her. "You will have a happy life, mydear, because you are a willing worker."
Although the Bay Colt didn't say anything, he thought a great deal, andabout many things. While he was thinking he began to crib, but thenoise of his biting teeth on the wood startled him, and he shook hishead and whispered to himself, "I will never crib again." When he atehis supper, his sore mouth hurt him, but he didn't whimper. "You deserveit," he said to himself. "It wouldn't have been sore if you had beensteady like your cousin." The Bay Colt was growing sensible very fast.
The Dappled Gray had noticed how suddenly he stopped cribbing, and sowatched him for a few days. He saw that the Bay Colt was in earnest,that he drew the log up and down without making any fuss, and was soonhitched with his mother to a plow. The Dappled Gray and the Blind Horsewere also plowing that day, and they called across from their field."Fine day for plowing," they said.
"Perfect," answered the Bay Colt. "Did you notice the last furrow weturned? Can you do any better than that? If I had jumped, it would havebeen crooked instead of straight; and if I had stopped, it would not bedone yet."
"Good furrow! Wonderful furrow!" answered the Dappled Gray. "Always knewyou'd be a good worker when you got down to it. You are one of us now,one of the working Horses. Glad of it. Good-bye!" And he turned away tostart his plow across the field again.
"Do you like being grown up?" said the Bay Colt's mother to him.
"Like it?" he answered with a laugh. "I'm so proud that I don't knowwhat to do. I wouldn't go back to the old life of all play for anythingin the world. And my little cousin made me see my mistakes. Was thereever another Colt as foolish as I?"
"A great many of them," said his mother. "More than you would guess.They kick and bite and try to run because they cannot always have theirown way; and then, when they have tried the farmer's way, and begin topay for his care of them, they find it very much better than the life ofall play. Colts will be Colts."
Among the Farmyard People Page 9
