I had no idea before that year's experience that little things--at least
what men call little things--could so affect the health and spirits of a
horse. I had even felt a little scornful sometimes when I saw
strong-looking animals go along with drooping heads, and noticed how
dull and stupid they looked.
But when I came to endure hardships and have no petting (though Herman
was better to me than most men are to their own horses) I felt
differently about it.
We need encouragement.
Chet did not take me out after Prince's tragic death for some time, but
Dr. Fred drove me a great deal, as there was only the bays and myself
then.
Topsy had had no regular breaking yet, but Chet declared his intention
of attending to the matter at once.
When he did undertake it he frightened the poor thing almost to death,
and what the outcome would have been I can only surmise, had not a
humane man noticed him one day and chided him for his method, or rather
lack of method. "Let me show you my way," he said. I suppose Chet was
getting tired of the job, so surrendered.
From being always handled, Topsy was all right, so long as no harness
was introduced, or any unusual noise made near her; but at the first
unfamiliar sight or sound she was a bunch of terrified, prancing nerves,
expecting the worst, and usually getting it, in the form of a whipping.
"She's got to learn that I'm boss," was a favorite expression of Chet's.
"Well, my boy," said the gentleman, "I suppose it is necessary for a
horse to know it has a master, but it is equally necessary for us to
recognize that they have rights, and also that bullying an animal is not
being, in a manly sense, its master. Now I have broken scores of horses,
and never yet whipped but one, and I have always hated myself for doing
that."
Then he began to gently rub Topsy's head and neck with his hands, and
later with a brush. She seemed to enjoy this, and when he let the latter
gradually pass over her shoulders and back, she offered no resistance.
He worked with her fifteen minutes or longer, then turned her into the
little enclosure she occupied during the day. I think I neglected to say
I was resting out at the farm for a day or two when this occurred.
In two or three hours the man came again, and repeated the handling and
brushing, only this time he touched the whole body, talking kindly and
reassuring all the while.
"She is going to be an uncommonly easy subject, I predict," he
announced.
"But who'd have patience for such slow getting on?" Chet scornfully
asked.
"I should imagine a little time apparently wasted in the beginning less
loss than a fine horse ruined in the end," the old man quietly answered.
When he let the young mare go that time she seemed slow to leave him,
though he had brushed her even to her heels.
The next time he handled her with greater freedom, brushing and talking
and finally showing her a little sack of straw. She eyed it awhile,
smelled it and then seemed not to care for it. The man now began to rub
her with this, gradually increasing the noise it made. Of course, she
was a little shy of this, and inclined to go away. A few gentle touches
of the brush reassured her. Then he put a halter on her. She had often
worn one before. After this he applied the straw again, stopping every
little while to brush and smoothe her. In a little time she paid no
attention either to the noise or the touch of the sack.
The next day he gave her four lessons of similar character. Later he
rattled tin cans and the like about her from head to heels, and had
small boys blow tin horns in all directions.
Topsy told me afterwards that so long as she could hear that man's voice
or feel his touch, she was not afraid of anything.
Afterward he gradually introduced the bridle and harness.
Like all horses, she objected to the bit, and I fancy people would make
more fuss than we do, if they had to wear it. It was the first night
that Topsy was at the livery barn after her "breaking," and she was
saying she minded the bit worst of all.
An old horse replied that well she might hate it.
"For years," she said, "my tongue has been in a measure paralyzed. It
always hangs out of my mouth when the bit is in, and I can't help it.
Sometimes it is more helpless than others and I almost starve. I get
better at times where some one owns me who puts a bit in my mouth that
don't hurt; but I am getting used up anyway, and change hands often, and
the majority of bits makes the trouble worse."
"I was once troubled that way," spoke up another horse, "and my master
kept changing bits until he got one that was all right and then I got
over it."
"I, too, had a paralyzed tongue," said another, "but it was not the bit,
it was genuine paralysis--might have been caused by that in the first
place, though I never thought of it. Anyway they applied electricity to
the nerves and gave me some medicine three times a day--'strychnia,'
they called it, one-hundredth of a grain at a dose. I soon got well."
"My tongue was all torn to pieces once with a frosty bit," put in
another. "And how I did suffer! No one noticed it until it was all
ulcerated, and I could not eat and scarcely drink. My master was one of
those careless fellows who never examines his horse, and seems to forget
that, however much they suffer, they can't speak for themselves.
"He did not know what to do for me and so sent for a neighbor, who told
him to use alum wash until the ulcers were all gone, and leave the bit
out until my mouth got well, meanwhile feeding me soft food."
And still another spoke of her teeth becoming long and rough, and
lacerating her tongue badly. She said they filed the teeth and wet her
tongue and mouth with a lotion made of calendula and water.
Topsy was a beauty in harness, and Chet was proud of her in his way, but
from the first I feared hers would be a hard life, but my darkest
forebodings came short of the dread reality.
Among other experiences that winter was one in horse-shoeing.
Master had been exceedingly particular always about my feet, but Herman
was like a majority of other men; knew nothing of the business himself
and trusted entirely to the smith, who chanced to be a new one.
I had often heard Master and the good blacksmith in the old home
denounce the fashion of trimming the frog and thinning the sole until it
yielded to the pressure of the thumb, and that was just what this smith
did. And then he put on great, heavy shoes, driving in spikes rather
than nails.
I admit that I kicked and plunged, but it was all wrong, and I knew it;
then the last spike went through into the foot. This made me rear and
plunge worse than ever, and the blacksmith struck me with the hammer.
"See here, Dr. Dick Wallace won't stand that," cried Herman. "He allows
no man to strike Dandy."
"Don't reckon he's better than other horses," he answered.
"Folks might differ on that," said Herman.
Well, I got out of there at last, but my foot hurt intolerably, and I
limped. Herman spoke of it to Dr. Fred, but the latter was in one of his
gruff moods, and only answered:
"It 'most always lames 'em at first."
That night a man came for a doctor in great haste; some one had taken
poison by mistake. Dandy was ordered.
If I could have spoken, how soon I would have convinced Herman that,
with that terrible torture in my foot, I could not go, but I could only
mutely look at him, and he, half asleep, paid no attention. It was a
good many miles we went, and the doctor drove like mad. It seemed to me
that running through fire would have been easy compared with the pain in
my foot, aggravated by the ceaseless concussion of the hard roads.
With a blanket thrown over me, I was left tied in a shed. How I longed
to lie down on something! All I could do was to hold up that leg. The
pains extended clear into my shoulders, and the cords of my neck were
growing stiff.
After a long time, a man came out and unhitched me from the road cart.
The moment I was free I lay down. Directly the man ran and brought Dr.
Fred. They bade me get up, and, rather than to disobey, I tried it, but
the moment I threw any weight on that foot had to immediately lay down
again.
Presently the man noticed me holding that foot, and asked if I was not
newly shod. Then Dr. Fred remembered.
"Well, Dandy," he said, "we must get home. Try it once more."
I got on my feet, but had to hold that one up for awhile. Gradually I
compelled myself to put it down, for I knew we must go, as he had said.
That was long years ago, but even now I can feel some of the agony of
that slow journey.
He went with Herman and me to the shop, and fiercely ordered that shoe
removed. The smith was not nearly so independent then. When the doctor
saw the heavy thing he raved more than ever.
"Do you put such shoes as those on a horse like this?" he cried.
The result was that all the shoes came off, and I was put in my stall
till my feet got well.
"An ounce at the toe means a pound at the withers," quoted the old
stable man. "And there's truth in it; glad the doctor had sense enough
to refuse them."
It was four weeks before I could be shod again, and in the meantime I
had a very sore foot. They gave me aconite to keep down my fever, and
used arnica on my foot after paring away the horn and poulticing until
suppuration ceased. My one thought was: "Will Master never come home?"
And so the winter and spring passed. "Several months," I thought as
much! My experience was pretty much the same right through, but I felt
years older when once again I rested my head on my beloved Master's
shoulder.
There was a new stable boy when he came back; Paddy, they called him.
Dr. Fred and Herman had quarreled some time before.
There was a new span of horses, too; John and Jean.
The old stable man privately told Master of some of my hardships, and
with tears in his eyes, the latter whispered: "Forgive me, Dandy."