Beautiful Joe [55]
you, the oftener the better for
me, till at last I got it into your pretty head that turning and twisting was
addling your brains, and you had better let me be master.
"You've minded me from that day, haven't you? Horse, or man, or dog aren't much
good till they learn to obey, and I've thrown you down and I'll do it again if
you bite me, so take care."
Scamp tossed her pretty head, and took little pieces of Mr. Wood's shirt sleeve
in her mouth, keeping her cunning brown eye on him as if to see how far she
could go. But she did not bite him. I think she loved him, for when he left her
she whinnied shrilly, and he had to go back and stroke and caress her.
After that I often used to watch her as she went about the farm. She always
seemed to be tugging and striving at her load, and trying to step out fast and
do a great deal of work. Mr. Wood was usually driving her. The men didn't like
her, and couldn't manage her. She had not been properly broken in.
After Mr. Wood finished his work he went and stood in the doorway. There were
six horses altogether: Dutchman, Cleve, Pacer, Scamp, a bay mare called Ruby,
and a young horse belonging to Mr. Harry, whose name was Fleetfoot.
"What do you think of them all?" said Mr. Wood, looking down at me. "A pretty
fine-looking lot of horses, aren't they? Not a thoroughbred there, but worth as
much to me as if each had pedigree as long as this plank walk. There's a lot of
humbug about this pedigree business in horses. Mine have their manes and tails
anyway, and the proper use of their eyes, which is more liberty than some
thoroughbreds get.
"I'd like to see the man that would persuade me to put blinders or check-reins
or any other instrument of torture on my horses. Don't the simpletons know that
blinders are the cause of well, I wouldn't like to say how many of our
accidents, Joe, for fear you'd think me extravagant. and the check-rein drags up
a horse's head out of its fine natural curve and presses sinews, bones, and
joints together, till the horse is well-nigh mad. Ah, Joe, this is a cruel world
for man or beast. You're a standing token of that, with your missing ears and
tail. And now I've got to go and be cruel, and shoot that dog. He must be
disposed of before anyone else is astir. How I hate to take life."
He sauntered down the walk to the tool shed, went in and soon came out leading a
large, brown dog by a chain. This was Bruno. He was snapping and snarling and
biting at his chain as he went along, though Mr. Wood led him very kindly, and
when he saw me he acted as if he could have torn me to pieces. After Mr. Wood
took him behind the barn, he came back and got his gun. I ran away so that I
would not hear the sound of it, for I could not help feeling sorry for Bruno.
Miss Laura's room was on one side of the house, and in the second story. There
was a little balcony outside it, and when I got near I saw that she was standing
out on it wrapped in a shawl. Her hair was streaming over her shoulders, and she
was looking down into the garden where there were a great many white and yellow
flowers in bloom.
I barked, and she looked at me. "Dear old Joe, I will get dressed and come
down."
She hurried into her room, and I lay on the veranda till I heard her step. Then
I jumped up. She unlocked the front door, and we went for a walk down the lane
to the road until we heard the breakfast bell. As soon as we heard it we ran
back to the house, and Miss Laura had such an appetite for her breakfast that
her aunt said the country had done her good already.
CHAPTER XVIII MRS. WOOD'S POULTRY
AFTER breakfast, Mrs. Wood put on a large apron, and going into the kitchen,
said: "Have you any scraps for the hens, Adele? Be sure and not give me anything
salty."
The French girl gave her a dish of food, then Mrs. Wood asked Miss Laura to go
and see her chickens, and away we went to the poultry house.
On the way we saw Mr. Wood. He was sitting on the step of the tool shed cleaning
his
me, till at last I got it into your pretty head that turning and twisting was
addling your brains, and you had better let me be master.
"You've minded me from that day, haven't you? Horse, or man, or dog aren't much
good till they learn to obey, and I've thrown you down and I'll do it again if
you bite me, so take care."
Scamp tossed her pretty head, and took little pieces of Mr. Wood's shirt sleeve
in her mouth, keeping her cunning brown eye on him as if to see how far she
could go. But she did not bite him. I think she loved him, for when he left her
she whinnied shrilly, and he had to go back and stroke and caress her.
After that I often used to watch her as she went about the farm. She always
seemed to be tugging and striving at her load, and trying to step out fast and
do a great deal of work. Mr. Wood was usually driving her. The men didn't like
her, and couldn't manage her. She had not been properly broken in.
After Mr. Wood finished his work he went and stood in the doorway. There were
six horses altogether: Dutchman, Cleve, Pacer, Scamp, a bay mare called Ruby,
and a young horse belonging to Mr. Harry, whose name was Fleetfoot.
"What do you think of them all?" said Mr. Wood, looking down at me. "A pretty
fine-looking lot of horses, aren't they? Not a thoroughbred there, but worth as
much to me as if each had pedigree as long as this plank walk. There's a lot of
humbug about this pedigree business in horses. Mine have their manes and tails
anyway, and the proper use of their eyes, which is more liberty than some
thoroughbreds get.
"I'd like to see the man that would persuade me to put blinders or check-reins
or any other instrument of torture on my horses. Don't the simpletons know that
blinders are the cause of well, I wouldn't like to say how many of our
accidents, Joe, for fear you'd think me extravagant. and the check-rein drags up
a horse's head out of its fine natural curve and presses sinews, bones, and
joints together, till the horse is well-nigh mad. Ah, Joe, this is a cruel world
for man or beast. You're a standing token of that, with your missing ears and
tail. And now I've got to go and be cruel, and shoot that dog. He must be
disposed of before anyone else is astir. How I hate to take life."
He sauntered down the walk to the tool shed, went in and soon came out leading a
large, brown dog by a chain. This was Bruno. He was snapping and snarling and
biting at his chain as he went along, though Mr. Wood led him very kindly, and
when he saw me he acted as if he could have torn me to pieces. After Mr. Wood
took him behind the barn, he came back and got his gun. I ran away so that I
would not hear the sound of it, for I could not help feeling sorry for Bruno.
Miss Laura's room was on one side of the house, and in the second story. There
was a little balcony outside it, and when I got near I saw that she was standing
out on it wrapped in a shawl. Her hair was streaming over her shoulders, and she
was looking down into the garden where there were a great many white and yellow
flowers in bloom.
I barked, and she looked at me. "Dear old Joe, I will get dressed and come
down."
She hurried into her room, and I lay on the veranda till I heard her step. Then
I jumped up. She unlocked the front door, and we went for a walk down the lane
to the road until we heard the breakfast bell. As soon as we heard it we ran
back to the house, and Miss Laura had such an appetite for her breakfast that
her aunt said the country had done her good already.
CHAPTER XVIII MRS. WOOD'S POULTRY
AFTER breakfast, Mrs. Wood put on a large apron, and going into the kitchen,
said: "Have you any scraps for the hens, Adele? Be sure and not give me anything
salty."
The French girl gave her a dish of food, then Mrs. Wood asked Miss Laura to go
and see her chickens, and away we went to the poultry house.
On the way we saw Mr. Wood. He was sitting on the step of the tool shed cleaning
his