“Well, a horse goes well enough on two wheels after all!” said the little wooden horse, making a great effort to overtake the horses of the twin Princes, for now the winning-post was getting near.
But just at that minute – bang! and a third wheel split clean in half! Certainly the miner had not made them for a little wooden horse to race with.
Now he was galloping cloppetty, clack, clack, clack! cloppetty, clack, clack, clack! while the marionette doll dangled over the side of the saddle, ready to fall at any moment.
“Now I am finished!” said the little wooden horse, for no wooden horse in the world can gallop his best with three wheels gone and his wooden stand bump bumping on the ground at every stride.
So what was his surprise at dropping back to find no horses behind him at all. They had all fallen out of the race, leaving it to him and Prince Ivor’s black and the brown horses of the twin Princes, who were gradually losing speed.
Now the ten little Princes and Princesses could hardly contain themselves, particularly the eldest, Prince Ivor, and the twin Princes, Sebastian and Llewellyn. The louder their brother shouted, “Go on, my black beauty!” the louder they yelled out, “Go on, our brown wonders!” till Prince Ivor clapped their heads together in a temper, and for a moment all was confusion. Only the youngest Princess, Madeleine, sat quite still, her round blue eyes fixed on the little wooden horse, who was limping cloppetty, clack, clack, clack! behind the rest.
Presently, in spite of the twin Princes’ shouts, the two brown horses began to slacken pace and fall farther and farther behind.
Even the black horse was weary; and it was now that the little wooden horse made his last effort. The winning-post drew nearer and nearer – he could see the gay flags flapping in the breeze – and with a bound of his stiff little wooden legs he set his one wheel spinning faster than ever.
On, on – he drew level with the twin brown horses and overtook them. Now they were far behind him, while just ahead the black horse cocked an eye and muttered, “All right, one wheel! I’ll show you!” as he galloped faster than ever.
But the little wooden horse was strong, and he was determined to win the Golden Trophy for the youngest Princess, Madeleine.
He kept doggedly on, cloppetty, clack, clack, clack! and little by little he drew level with Prince Ivor’s black horse.
The black horse eyed him savagely, for he knew that he himself was tiring and the winning-post was only just ahead.
“Fall back, wooden one!” he ordered, grinding his bit, till the little wooden horse thought again fearfully of the great rocking horse in the little girl’s playhouse, away in the forest where he had left Uncle Peder.
But he didn’t mean to be afraid of the black horse: he meant to win. Slowly, slowly, he drew ahead. Now the black horse was half a length behind him, breathing hot, angry breath on to his painted back as he angrily tried to get back his place in front of the little wooden horse.
The winning-post was only a few yards ahead, the black horse was nearly beaten, and the little wooden horse was thinking, “Well, after all, if a horse can win a race with only one wheel, that’s not so bad!” when a dreadful thing happened. The black horse shot out a wicked hoof and caught the last wheel of the little wooden horse, so that it spun high into the air and then bounded away down the racecourse.
The little wooden horse trundled a few steps farther on, clack, clack, clack, clack! and then rolled over and lay still. The marionette doll sprawled beside him on the ground, while the black horse shot past the winning-post to win the race.
The little wooden horse lay still for a long time, while his ears buzzed and stars danced before his painted eyes, and his breath came in great puffs.
“I shall go home,” said the little wooden horse. “First I shall give the little boy back his money that lies safely inside my little wooden body, together with the reward that I have for him from the King. And then somehow or other I shall find my way back across the seas to Uncle Peder, for misfortunes come to me in this country. First I lost my eyes, and now I have no wheels. It is better that we should spend our money and starve together than that I should die here alone, with Uncle Peder ill and helpless in the middle of the forest.”
As he thought these sad thoughts the little wooden horse became aware of a great shouting going on around him, but this did not disturb him very much. He picked himself up and began to limp, clack, clack, clack, clack! back towards the pavilion where the King had sat with the Queen and the ten little Princes and Princesses.
“I will say goodbye,” said the little wooden horse. “And then I will go away.”
So no one was more surprised than himself when he came to the pavilion and heard all the people shouting, “The little wooden horse has won the race! The little wooden horse has won the race!” And the youngest Princess, Madeleine, rushed up to fling her arms about his wooden neck.
For a great many people had seen how badly the black horse had treated the little wooden horse. The King had seen it, and the Queen, and all the little Princes and Princesses. Even Prince Ivor was standing looking as angry as could be, but his anger was against the black horse, who would not be allowed to take the prize.
So the King handed the Golden Trophy to the youngest Princess, Madeleine, who was so happy that she could not speak for shyness and joy, but ran away from them all to find her marionette doll, who had made a poor jockey, but was none the worse for his fall. The Queen hung a garland round the neck of the little wooden horse, and handed him the prize of ten golden guineas.
“At last I have made my fortune!” said the little wooden horse, sighing with happiness.
The ten little Princes and Princesses begged him to come back with them to the Palace and live with them for ever and ever. But now the little wooden horse was more than ever determined to go back to find Uncle Peder, when he had given the little boy back his money and found someone who would make him four more wooden wheels.
The youngest Princess, Madeleine, cried bitterly when she heard he was going to leave them, till the King, who had heard his story, said, “When you go back to your master, my little wooden horse, you will ask him to make me ten little wooden horses with red saddles and blue stripes, one for each Prince and Princess, and I will pay him five shillings each for them when they are done.”
The ten little Princes and Princesses were delighted at the thought of having ten little wooden horses of their own, so they parted happily enough with the little wooden horse, although the youngest Princess, Madeleine, gave him a thousand kisses, and could hardly bear to tear herself away.
11
The Blacksmith and his Son
After such pleasant company the little wooden horse felt lonely limping down the road alone on his way back to the mine.
He could still feel the kisses of the youngest Princess, Madeleine, fluttering like a thousand butterflies about his nose, but for other company he had none, and as night was falling and he was very tired he soon curled up in the shelter of a barn and slept till morning.
The first thing that the little wooden horse heard when he awoke in the morning was the clink, clink, clink! of a hammer upon hot metal.
“That sounds to me like a blacksmith’s hammer,” said the little wooden horse. “And a blacksmith is just the man I want to make me four new, strong little wooden wheels, bound with iron.”
So he plodded round the corner of the barn, and came, sure enough, upon a blacksmith and his son working away in a great smoky forge, where they were shoeing a big red horse.
The blacksmith was rosy-cheeked and handsome, with big, strong hands and a wide, kind smile, but his son was as wizened as a little nut, with a squint in his eye and a crooked, disagreeable mouth.
When they saw the little wooden horse they asked him what he wanted.
“Only four little wooden wheels, bound with iron, to take me on my travels back across the sea,” said the little wooden horse very humbly.
The blacksmith shook his head so
rrowfully.
“We have no more fuel for our fire,” he said. “We have only enough fuel to finish the shoes for the gentleman’s horse that you see here, which must be done shortly, for he is going hunting this morning. If the shoes are not ready the gentleman will not pay me, and then we shall have no more money for iron. When they are done my son and I will go into the woods and cut down trees for more fuel, but now we must work until the shoes are ready.”
“However,” added the blacksmith, seeing how disappointed the little wooden horse appeared, “maybe as your wheels are very small I could heat a little bit of iron in the hot ashes when the shoes are done, but you must wait patiently until I am ready to help you.”
The little wooden horse crept into a corner and waited patiently enough while the blacksmith and his son blew sparks from the dying fire and tapped the nails through the shoes of the gentleman’s fine red horse. He saw how strong and clever was the blacksmith and how true was his work, while his son drove the nails in crookedly, and hit the horse with the hammer when he would not stand still – behind his father’s back.
At last the little wooden horse could bear it no longer.
“That shoe will not hold!” he cried, when the blacksmith’s son had driven three crooked nails into the shoe of the red horse.
The blacksmith examined the shoe and rated his son angrily. The son swore and grumbled, cursing at the little wooden horse for giving him away. But the shoe had to come off and be put on again, while valuable moments sped away, and the blacksmith cast anxious glances at the time and at the fire, which was dying away into dusty embers for lack of fuel.
In vain he pumped at the bellows: there was no fire left to burn and another shoe to make. The blacksmith thrust the iron shoe into the ashes, but it would not heat. His brow wrinkled with anxiety, while his son stood sullenly by, looking on.
The blacksmith flung some shavings from the floor on to the fire, and for a few moments the sparks again crackled and blazed, but it was not enough to heat the shoe.
“Wait while I find some wood in the house,” said the blacksmith, leaving the forge. “And if there is none there I will pull some straw off the roof.”
When he had gone out of the forge the blacksmith’s son picked up the little wooden horse and looked at him carefully.
“Well, well, well!” said he, as he heard the coins clinking about inside his little wooden body. “So we carry a fortune inside us, do we?” He rattled the little horse again, and thought what a pleasant sound it was to hear so much money clinking about so close beside him.
Then, he thought, a little wooden horse on a wooden stand was just what he wanted to make the fire blaze and finish the shoes for the gentleman’s horse.
“If I take the money out and throw the little wooden horse on the fire,” the blacksmith’s son said to himself, “my father will think he has got tired of waiting and run away, and the shoes will be finished, while I shall have money to spend for the rest of my life.”
The little wooden horse began to tremble violently when he heard what the blacksmith’s son was muttering.
“Now here am I, a quiet little horse,” he said to himself, “having escaped death by the axe of a little old woman, and by overworking at the hands of a wicked farmer, and by suffocation in the mine, going to be burned in the fire and have all my money taken away! Oh, master! Oh, master! I shall never see Uncle Peder again!”
Just as the blacksmith’s son laid him on the edge of the forge and was about to unscrew his head and help himself to the money inside, the little wooden horse screamed out to the red horse, “Oh, help me! Oh, help me, do! I am going to be burned and have all my money stolen!”
The red horse had been growing very restive when he saw what the blacksmith’s son was going to do to the little wooden horse, and now he could contain himself no longer. He lashed out with all his might, and knocked the blacksmith’s son head over heels across the forge.
The blacksmith’s son jumped to his feet and seized his hammer, for he intended to punish the red horse. At the same time he tried to grab the little wooden horse; but they were both too quick for him. The red horse threw up his head and broke his halter. Then he galloped out of the smithy door, closely followed by the little wooden horse.
They galloped away till they were deep in the woods, when they stopped and looked at each other.
The little wooden horse thanked the red horse very gratefully for saving his life. Then he said, “It seems to me that the good blacksmith is going to get into trouble for no fault of his. When your master goes to fetch you he will find you gone, with only three shoes on, and he won’t pay the blacksmith a penny.”
“That is true,” said the red horse. “Then I will go back directly, for the blacksmith is as kind and pleasant as any man I have met.”
“But the fire will be out now,” the little wooden horse objected. “And there is no more fuel. The blacksmith will be beating his boy, and the smithy will be empty. We had much better get some more wood for the next fire.”
So without delay they set to work gathering branches and boughs, which they carried on their backs, till they could carry no more, and nothing could be seen of the little wooden horse but his straight little legs walking along under a great pile of wood.
They went back to the forge, where the poor blacksmith, having beaten his son, stood beside his empty fire and sighed with despair.
It did not take long to get a new fire going, and while the blacksmith heated the iron the little wooden horse worked at the bellows with all his strength, while the red horse stood as still as a rock to be shod. The last shoe was barely on when his master appeared, in a very good temper at finding his red horse all ready and waiting for him. He paid the blacksmith double what he asked, and galloped away to his hunting.
When they had disappeared the blacksmith made four wooden wheels for the little wooden horse, bound strongly with iron and fastened on with four strong new nails.
“That should last for a while, my little wooden horse,” said the blacksmith, who would not take a penny for the wheels, he was so grateful for the fact that the little wooden horse had brought him wood in the nick of time.
12
The Little Wooden Horse at the Circus
With four new wooden wheels, bound with iron, the little wooden horse rolled along merrily. He expected to be at the home of the miner’s little boy by nightfall. The next day he intended to say goodbye and find his way to the coast, whence he hoped some ship would carry him back over the sea to Uncle Peder. Before long he came to a travelling fair – roundabouts, swingboats, tents, and coconut shies – a very gay scene that stretched right across the road. The roaring of tigers and lions, the whistling of boys, and the barking of dogs made the whole place lively enough, and the little wooden horse was rather afraid to pass through the middle of it on his way to the mine.
He thought he would make his way round the edge, in the shelter of the tents.
So he left the road and began to creep around the outside of the fair as softly as his four new wooden wheels would carry him.
By and by he found his way blocked by what appeared to be a thick grey rope that swung and dangled in the air from high above his head. When he tried to pass it by the rope moved too, fumbling and knocking against his head till he could not think what it could be.
“Can it be a snake?” thought the little wooden horse.
Then a terrible thing happened! For all of a sudden the rope curled itself about his wooden body in a tight grey knot and began to lift him into the air! Higher and higher it lifted him – up, up, up! towards the roof of a tent.
“What can this be?” thought the little wooden horse in terror, as he saw the earth getting farther and farther below his new wooden wheels. He could only think of the day when the crane had lifted him up, up, up! from the port, over to the ship, and had dropped him in the hold next to the elephant.
Now the little wooden horse had the strangest surprise – for exactl
y the same thing happened again! The grey rope began to lower him down, down, down! till it dropped him gently on the straw, and there he was looking up into the kindly face and swaying trunk of his friend the elephant, inside a dark little circus tent no larger than the hold of the ship itself.
“I do believe,” said the elephant, “that it is my little friend the wooden horse!”
“And I do believe,” said the little wooden horse, “that it is my friend the elephant!”
“Well!” both said together, as they told each other how delighted they were with this unexpected meeting.
The elephant was travelling with the circus attached to the fair. He was very interested in the adventures of the little wooden horse, and begged him not to go on his journey immediately.
“Perhaps we shall never meet again,” he said sadly. “And when you are gone back over the seas you will forget about me.”
The elephant seemed so unhappy that the little wooden horse agreed to spend a night and a day with him. Besides, he very much wanted to see what part the elephant played in the circus, and how fine he looked dressed up in his scarlet and gold trappings.
When the evening came and the elephant was led out to perform in the circus ring the little wooden horse followed closely at his heels to see what was to be seen.
The elephant was very clever. He stood on his head and performed all kinds of tricks with his trunk and his legs, for which the people threw him buns and clapped him loudly.
The little wooden horse could not clap very well, so he rattled his four new wooden wheels, so loudly that the circus master turned round and saw him.
“Why, what are you doing here, my little wooden horse?” asked the circus master, with an indignant look, for he did not like to have little wooden horses breaking into his circus.
The little wooden horse explained that he had come to see his friend the elephant, but because the circus master still looked rather angry he added that he too could do a lot of tricks.
Adventures of the Little Wooden Horse Page 6
