Beautiful Joe [54]
for a reliable
horse, and there he was, kicking and stamping whenever the boy went near him.
'Your boy's got too heavy a hand, Deacon Jones,' said I, when he described the
horse's actions to me. 'You may depend upon it, a four-legged creature, unlike a
two-legged one, has a reason for everything he does.' 'But he's only a draught
horse,' said Deacon Jones. 'Draught horse or no draught horse,' said I, 'you're
describing a horse with a tender skin to me, and I don't care if he's as big as
an elephant.' Well, the old man grumbled and said he didn't want any
thoroughbred airs in his stable, so I bought you, didn't I, Dutchman?" and Mr.
Wood stroked him kindly and went to the next stall.
In each stall was a small tank of water with a sliding cover, and I found out
afterward that these covers were put on when a horse came in too heated to have
a drink. At any other time, he could drink all he liked. Mr. Wood believed in
having plenty of pure water for all his animals and they all had their own place
to get a drink.
Even I had a little bowl of water in the woodshed, though I could easily have
run up to the barnyard when I wanted a drink. As soon as I came, Mrs. Wood asked
Adele to keep it there for me and when I looked up gratefully at her, she said:
"Every animal should have its own feeding place and its own sleeping place, Joe;
that is only fair."
The next horses Mr. Wood groomed were the black ones, Cleve and Pacer. Pacer had
something wrong with his mouth, and Mr. Wood turned back his lips and examined
it carefully. This he was able to do, for there were large windows in the stable
and it was as light as Mr. Wood's house was.
"No dark corners here, eh Joe!" said Mr. Wood, as he came out of the stall and
passed me to get a bottle from a shelf. "When this stable was built, I said no
dirt holes for careless men here. I want the sun to shine in the corners, and I
don't want my horses to smell bad smells, for they hate them, and I don't want
them starting when they go into the light of day, just because they've been kept
in a black hole of a stable, and I've never had a. sick horse yet."
He poured something from a bottle into a saucer and went back to Pacer with it.
I followed him and stood outside. Mr. Wood seemed to be washing a sore in the
horse's mouth. Pacer winced a little, and Mr. Wood said: "Steady, steady, my
beauty; 'twill soon be over."
The horse fixed his intelligent eyes on his master and looked as if he knew that
he was trying to do him good.
"Just look at these lips, Joe," said Mr. Wood "delicate and fine like our own,
and yet there are brutes that will jerk them as if they were made of iron. I
wish the Lord would give horses voices just for one week. I tell you they'd
scare some of us. Now, Pacer, that's over. I'm. not going to dose you much, for
I don't believe in it. If a horse has got a serious trouble, get a good horse
doctor, say I. If it's a simple thing, try a simple remedy. There's been many a
good horse drugged and dosed to death. Well, Scamp, my beauty, how are you, this
morning?"
In the stall next to Pacer, was a small, jet-black mare, with a lean head,
slender legs, and a curious restless manner. She was a regular greyhound of a
horse, no spare flesh, yet wiry and able to do a great deal of work. She was a
wicked looking little thing, so I thought I had better keep at a safe distance
from her heels.
Mr. Wood petted her a great deal and I saw that she was his favorite.
"Saucebox," he exclaimed, when she pretended to bite him, "you know if you bite
me, I'll bite back again. I think I've conquered you," he said, proudly, as he
stroked her glossy neck; "but what a dance you led me. Do you remember how I
bought you for a mere song, because you had a bad habit of turning around like a
flash in front of anything that frightened you, and bolting off the other way?
And how did I cure you, my beauty? Beat you and make you stubborn? Not I. I let
you go round and round; I turned you and twisted
horse, and there he was, kicking and stamping whenever the boy went near him.
'Your boy's got too heavy a hand, Deacon Jones,' said I, when he described the
horse's actions to me. 'You may depend upon it, a four-legged creature, unlike a
two-legged one, has a reason for everything he does.' 'But he's only a draught
horse,' said Deacon Jones. 'Draught horse or no draught horse,' said I, 'you're
describing a horse with a tender skin to me, and I don't care if he's as big as
an elephant.' Well, the old man grumbled and said he didn't want any
thoroughbred airs in his stable, so I bought you, didn't I, Dutchman?" and Mr.
Wood stroked him kindly and went to the next stall.
In each stall was a small tank of water with a sliding cover, and I found out
afterward that these covers were put on when a horse came in too heated to have
a drink. At any other time, he could drink all he liked. Mr. Wood believed in
having plenty of pure water for all his animals and they all had their own place
to get a drink.
Even I had a little bowl of water in the woodshed, though I could easily have
run up to the barnyard when I wanted a drink. As soon as I came, Mrs. Wood asked
Adele to keep it there for me and when I looked up gratefully at her, she said:
"Every animal should have its own feeding place and its own sleeping place, Joe;
that is only fair."
The next horses Mr. Wood groomed were the black ones, Cleve and Pacer. Pacer had
something wrong with his mouth, and Mr. Wood turned back his lips and examined
it carefully. This he was able to do, for there were large windows in the stable
and it was as light as Mr. Wood's house was.
"No dark corners here, eh Joe!" said Mr. Wood, as he came out of the stall and
passed me to get a bottle from a shelf. "When this stable was built, I said no
dirt holes for careless men here. I want the sun to shine in the corners, and I
don't want my horses to smell bad smells, for they hate them, and I don't want
them starting when they go into the light of day, just because they've been kept
in a black hole of a stable, and I've never had a. sick horse yet."
He poured something from a bottle into a saucer and went back to Pacer with it.
I followed him and stood outside. Mr. Wood seemed to be washing a sore in the
horse's mouth. Pacer winced a little, and Mr. Wood said: "Steady, steady, my
beauty; 'twill soon be over."
The horse fixed his intelligent eyes on his master and looked as if he knew that
he was trying to do him good.
"Just look at these lips, Joe," said Mr. Wood "delicate and fine like our own,
and yet there are brutes that will jerk them as if they were made of iron. I
wish the Lord would give horses voices just for one week. I tell you they'd
scare some of us. Now, Pacer, that's over. I'm. not going to dose you much, for
I don't believe in it. If a horse has got a serious trouble, get a good horse
doctor, say I. If it's a simple thing, try a simple remedy. There's been many a
good horse drugged and dosed to death. Well, Scamp, my beauty, how are you, this
morning?"
In the stall next to Pacer, was a small, jet-black mare, with a lean head,
slender legs, and a curious restless manner. She was a regular greyhound of a
horse, no spare flesh, yet wiry and able to do a great deal of work. She was a
wicked looking little thing, so I thought I had better keep at a safe distance
from her heels.
Mr. Wood petted her a great deal and I saw that she was his favorite.
"Saucebox," he exclaimed, when she pretended to bite him, "you know if you bite
me, I'll bite back again. I think I've conquered you," he said, proudly, as he
stroked her glossy neck; "but what a dance you led me. Do you remember how I
bought you for a mere song, because you had a bad habit of turning around like a
flash in front of anything that frightened you, and bolting off the other way?
And how did I cure you, my beauty? Beat you and make you stubborn? Not I. I let
you go round and round; I turned you and twisted