TAMING THE COLT
“What in the world is that boy doing?” said Mrs. Jo to herself, as she
watched Dan running round the half-mile triangle as if for a wager.
He was all alone, and seemed possessed by some strange desire to run
himself into a fever, or break his neck; for, after several rounds, he
tried leaping walls, and turning somersaults up the avenue, and finally
dropped down on the grass before the door as if exhausted.
“Are you training for a race, Dan?” asked Mrs. Jo, from the window
where she sat.
He looked up quickly, and stopped panting to answer, with a laugh,--
“No; I’m only working off my steam.”
“Can’t you find a cooler way of doing it? You will be ill if you tear
about so in such warm weather,” said Mrs. Jo, laughing also, as she
threw him out a great palm-leaf fan.
“Can’t help it. I _must_ run somewhere,” answered Dan, with such an odd
expression in his restless eyes, that Mrs. Jo was troubled, and asked,
quickly,--
“Is Plumfield getting too narrow for you?”
“I wouldn’t mind if it was a little bigger. I like it though; only the
fact is the devil gets into me sometimes, and then I do want to bolt.”
The words seemed to come against his will, for he looked sorry the
minute they were spoken, and seemed to think he deserved a reproof for
his ingratitude. But Mrs. Jo understood the feeling, and though sorry
to see it, she could not blame the boy for confessing it. She looked
at him anxiously, seeing how tall and strong he had grown, how full
of energy his face was, with its eager eyes and resolute mouth; and
remembering the utter freedom he had known for years before, she felt
how even the gentle restraint of this home would weigh upon him at
times when the old lawless spirit stirred in him. “Yes,” she said to
herself, “my wild hawk needs a larger cage; and yet, if I let him go, I
am afraid he will be lost. I must try and find some lure strong enough
to keep him safe.”
“I know all about it,” she added, aloud. “It is not ‘the devil,’ as you
call it, but the very natural desire of all young people for liberty. I
used to feel just so, and once, I really did think for a minute that I
would bolt.”
“Why didn’t you?” said Dan, coming to lean on the low window-ledge,
with an evident desire to continue the subject.
“I knew it was foolish, and love for my mother kept me at home.”
“I haven’t got any mother,” began Dan.
“I thought you had _now_,” said Mrs. Jo, gently stroking the rough hair
off his hot forehead.
“You are no end good to me, and I can’t ever thank you enough, but it
isn’t just the same, is it?” and Dan looked up at her with a wistful,
hungry look that went to her heart.
“No, dear, it is not the same, and never can be. I think an own mother
would have been a great deal to you. But as that cannot be, you must
try to let me fill her place. I fear I have not done all I ought, or
you would not want to leave me,” she added, sorrowfully.
“Yes, you have!” cried Dan, eagerly. “I don’t want to go, and I won’t
go, if I can help it; but every now and then I feel as if I must
burst out somehow. I want to run straight ahead somewhere, to smash
something, or pitch into somebody. Don’t know why, but I do, and that’s
all about it.”
Dan laughed as he spoke, but he meant what he said, for he knit his
black brows, and brought down his fist on the ledge with such force,
that Mrs. Jo’s thimble flew off into the grass. He brought it back, and
as she took it she held the big, brown hand a minute, saying, with a
look that showed the words cost her something--
“Well, Dan, run if you must, but don’t run far; and come back to me
soon, for I want you very much.”
He was rather taken aback by this unexpected permission to play truant,
and somehow it seemed to lessen his desire to go. He did not understand
why, but Mrs. Jo did, and, knowing the natural perversity of the human
mind, counted on it to help her now. She felt instinctively that the
more the boy was restrained the more he would fret against it; but
leave him free, and the mere sense of liberty would content him, joined
to the knowledge that his presence was dear to those whom he loved
best. It was a little experiment, but it succeeded, for Dan stood
silent a moment, unconsciously picking the fan to pieces and turning
the matter over in his mind. He felt that she appealed to his heart and
his honor, and owned that he understood it by saying presently, with a
mixture of regret and resolution in his face,--
“I won’t go yet awhile, and I’ll give you warning before I bolt. That’s
fair, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we will let it stand so. Now, I want to see if I can’t find some
way for you to work off your steam better than running about the place
like a mad dog, spoiling my fans, or fighting with the boys. What can
we invent?” and while Dan tried to repair the mischief he had done,
Mrs. Jo racked her brain for some new device to keep her truant safe
until he had learned to love his lessons better.
“How would you like to be my express-man?” she said, as a sudden
thought popped into her head.
“Go into town, and do the errands?” asked Dan, looking interested at
once.
“Yes; Franz is tired of it, Silas cannot be spared just now, and Mr.
Bhaer has no time. Old Andy is a safe horse, you are a good driver, and
know your way about the city as well as a postman. Suppose you try it,
and see if it won’t do ’most as well to drive away two or three times a
week as to run away once a month.”
“I’d like it ever so much, only I must go alone and do it all myself. I
don’t want any of the other fellows bothering round,” said Dan, taking
to the new idea so kindly that he began to put on business airs already.
“If Mr. Bhaer does not object you shall have it all your own way. I
suppose Emil will growl, but he cannot be trusted with horses, and you
can. By the way, to-morrow is market-day, and I must make out my list.
You had better see that the wagon is in order, and tell Silas to have
the fruit and vegetables ready for mother. You will have to be up early
and get back in time for school, can you do that?”
“I’m always an early bird, so I don’t mind,” and Dan slung on his
jacket with despatch.
“The early bird got the worm this time, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Jo,
merrily.
“And a jolly good worm it is,” answered Dan, as he went laughing away
to put a new lash to the whip, wash the wagon, and order Silas about
with all the importance of a young express-man.
“Before he is tired of this I will find something else and have it
ready when the next restless fit comes on,” said Mrs. Jo to herself,
as she wrote her list with a deep sense of gratitude that all her boys
were not Dans.
Mr. Bhaer did not entirely approve of the new plan, but agreed to
give it a trial, which put Dan on his mettle, and caused him to give
up certain wild plans of his own, in which the new lash and the long
hill were to have borne a part. He was up and away very early the next
morning, heroically resisting the temptation to race with the milkmen
going into town. Once there, he did his errands carefully, and came
jogging home again in time for school, to Mr. Bhaer’s surprise and Mrs.
Jo’s great satisfaction. The Commodore did growl at Dan’s promotion,
but was pacified by a superior padlock to his new boat-house, and
the thought that seamen were meant for higher honors than driving
market-wagons and doing family errands. So Dan filled his new office
well and contentedly for weeks, and said no more about bolting. But
one day Mr. Bhaer found him pummelling Jack, who was roaring for mercy
under his knee.
“Why, Dan, I thought you had given up fighting,” he said, as he went to
the rescue.
“We ain’t fighting, we are only wrestling,” answered Dan, leaving off
reluctantly.
“It looks very much like it, and feels like it, hey, Jack?” said Mr.
Bhaer, as the defeated gentleman got upon his legs with difficulty.
“Catch me wrestling with him again. He’s ’most knocked my head off,”
snarled Jack, holding on to that portion of his frame as if it really
was loose upon his shoulders.
“The fact is, we began in fun, but when I got him down I couldn’t help
pounding him. Sorry I hurt you, old fellow,” explained Dan, looking
rather ashamed of himself.
“I understand. The longing to pitch into somebody was so strong you
couldn’t resist. You are a sort of Berserker, Dan, and something to
tussle with is as necessary to you as music is to Nat,” said Mr. Bhaer,
who knew all about the conversation between the boy and Mrs. Jo.
“Can’t help it. So if you don’t want to be pounded you’d better keep
out of the way,” answered Dan, with a warning look in his black eyes
that made Jack sheer off in haste.
“If you want something to wrestle with, I will give you a tougher
specimen than Jack,” said Mr. Bhaer; and, leading the way to the
wood-yard, he pointed out certain roots of trees that had been grubbed
up in the spring, and had been lying there waiting to be split.
“There, when you feel inclined to maltreat the boys, just come and work
off your energies here, and I’ll thank you for it.”
“So I will;” and, seizing the axe that lay near, Dan hauled out a tough
root, and went at it so vigorously, that the chips flew far and wide,
and Mr. Bhaer fled for his life.
To his great amusement, Dan took him at his word, and was often seen
wrestling with the ungainly knots, hat and jacket off, red face,
and wrathful eyes; for he got into royal rages over some of his
adversaries, and swore at them under his breath till he had conquered
them, when he exulted, and marched off to the shed with an armful of
gnarled oak-wood in triumph. He blistered his hands, tired his back,
and dulled the axe, but it did him good, and he got more comfort out of
the ugly roots than any one dreamed, for with each blow he worked off
some of the pent-up power that would otherwise have been expended in
some less harmless way.
“When this is gone I really don’t know what I _shall_ do,” said Mrs.
Jo to herself, for no inspiration came, and she was at the end of her
resources.
But Dan found a new occupation for himself, and enjoyed it some time
before any one discovered the cause of his contentment. A fine young
horse of Mr. Laurie’s was kept at Plumfield that summer, running loose
in a large pasture across the brook. The boys were all interested in
the handsome, spirited creature, and for a time were fond of watching
him gallop and frisk with his plumey tail flying, and his handsome head
in the air. But they soon got tired of it, and left Prince Charlie to
himself. All but Dan, _he_ never tired of looking at the horse, and
seldom failed to visit him each day with a lump of sugar, a bit of
bread, or an apple to make him welcome. Charlie was grateful, accepted
his friendship, and the two loved one another as if they felt some tie
between them, inexplicable but strong. In whatever part of the wide
field he might be, Charlie always came at full speed when Dan whistled
at the bars, and the boy was never happier than when the beautiful,
fleet creature put its head on his shoulder, looking up at him with
fine eyes full of intelligent affection.
“We understand one another without any palaver, don’t we, old fellow?”
Dan would say, proud of the horse’s confidence, and so jealous of his
regard, that he told no one how well the friendship prospered, and
never asked anybody but Teddy to accompany him on these daily visits.
Mr. Laurie came now and then to see how Charlie got on, and spoke of
having him broken to harness in the autumn.
“He won’t need much taming, he is such a gentle, fine-tempered brute. I
shall come out and try him with a saddle myself some day,” he said, on
one of these visits.
“He lets me put a halter on him, but I don’t believe he will bear a
saddle even if you put it on,” answered Dan, who never failed to be
present when Charlie and his master met.
“I shall coax him to bear it, and not mind a few tumbles at first. He
has never been harshly treated, so, though he will be surprised at the
new performances, I think he won’t be frightened, and his antics will
do no harm.”
“I wonder what he _would_ do,” said Dan to himself, as Mr. Laurie went
away with the Professor, and Charlie returned to the bars, from which
he had retired when the gentlemen came up.
A daring fancy to try the experiment took possession of the boy as
he sat on the topmost rail with the glossy back temptingly near him.
Never thinking of danger, he obeyed the impulse, and while Charlie
unsuspectingly nibbled at the apple he held, Dan quickly and quietly
took his seat. He did not keep it long, however, for with an astonished
snort, Charlie reared straight up, and deposited Dan on the ground. The
fall did not hurt him, for the turf was soft, and he jumped up, saying,
with a laugh,--
“I did it any way! Come here, you rascal, and I’ll try it again.”
But Charlie declined to approach, and Dan left him resolving to succeed
in the end; for a struggle like this suited him exactly. Next time he
took a halter, and having got it on, he played with the horse for a
while, leading him to and fro, and putting him through various antics
till he was a little tired; then Dan sat on the wall and gave him
bread, but watched his chance, and getting a good grip of the halter,
slipped on to his back. Charlie tried the old trick, but Dan held
on, having had practice with Toby, who occasionally had an obstinate
fit, and tried to shake off his rider. Charlie was both amazed and
indignant; and after prancing for a minute, set off at a gallop, and
away went Dan heels over head. If he had not belonged to the class
of boys who go through all sorts of dangers unscathed, he would
have broken his neck; as it was, he got a heavy fall, and lay still
collecting his wits, while Charlie tore round the field tossing his
head with every sign of satisfaction at the discomfiture of his rider.
Presently it seemed to occur to him that something was wrong with Dan,
and, being of a magnanimous nature, he went to see what the matter
was. Dan let him sniff about and perplex himself for a few minutes;
then he looked up at him, saying, as decidedly as if the horse could
understand,--
“You think you have beaten, but you are mistaken, old boy; and I’ll
ride you yet--see if I don’t.”
He tried no more that day, but soon after attempted a new method of
introducing Charlie to a burden. He strapped a folded blanket on his
back, and then let him race, and rear, and roll, and fume as much as he
liked. After a few fits of rebellion Charlie submitted, and in a few
days permitted Dan to mount him, often stopping short to look round, as
if he said, half patiently, half reproachfully, “I don’t understand
it, but I suppose you mean no harm, so I permit the liberty.”
Dan patted and praised him, and took a short turn every day, getting
frequent falls, but persisting in spite of them, and longing to try a
saddle and a bridle, but not daring to confess what he had done. He had
his wish, however, for there had been a witness of his pranks who said
a good word for him.
“Do you know what that chap has ben doin’ lately?” asked Silas of his
master, one evening, as he received his orders for the next day.
“Which boy?” said Mr. Bhaer, with an air of resignation, expecting some
sad revelation.
“Dan, he’s ben a breaking the colt, sir, and I wish I may die if he
ain’t done it,” answered Silas, chuckling.
“How do you know?”
“Wal, I kinder keep an eye on the little fellers, and ’most gen’lly know
what they’re up to; so when Dan kep going off to the paster, and coming
home black and blue, I mistrusted that _suthing_ was goin’ on. I didn’t
say nothin’, but I crep up into the barn chamber, and from there I see
him goin’ through all manner of games with Charlie. Blest if he warn’t
throwed time and agin, and knocked round like a bag o’ meal. But the
pluck of the boy did beat all, and he ’peared to like it, and kep on as
ef bound to beat.”
“But, Silas, you should have stopped it--the boy might have been
killed,” said Mr. Bhaer, wondering what freak his irrepressibles would
take into their heads next.
“S’pose I oughter; but there warn’t no real danger, for Charlie ain’t
no tricks, and is as pretty a tempered horse as ever I see. Fact was,
I couldn’t bear to spile sport, for ef there’s any thing I do admire
it’s grit, and Dan is chock full on ’t. But now I know he’s hankerin’
after a saddle, and yet won’t take even the old one on the sly; so I
just thought I’d up and tell, and may be you’d let him try what he can
do. Mr. Laurie won’t mind, and Charlie’s all the better for ’t.”
“We shall see;” and off went Mr. Bhaer to inquire into the matter.
Dan owned up at once, and proudly proved that Silas was right by
showing off his power over Charlie; for by dint of much coaxing, many
carrots, and infinite perseverance, he really had succeeded in riding
the colt with a halter and blanket. Mr. Laurie was much amused, and
well pleased with Dan’s courage and skill, and let him have a hand in
all future performances; for he set about Charlie’s education at once,
saying that he was not going to be outdone by a slip of a boy. Thanks
to Dan, Charlie took kindly to the saddle and bridle when he had once
reconciled himself to the indignity of the bit; and after Mr. Laurie
had trained him a little, Dan was permitted to ride him, to the great
envy and admiration of the other boys.
“Isn’t he handsome? and don’t he mind me like a lamb?” said Dan one day
as he dismounted and stood with his arm round Charlie’s neck.
“Yes, and isn’t he a much more useful and agreeable animal than the
wild colt who spent his days racing about the field, jumping fences,
and running away now and then?” asked Mrs. Bhaer from the steps where
she always appeared when Dan performed with Charlie.
“Of course he is. See he won’t run away now, even if I don’t hold
him, and he comes to me the minute I whistle; I have tamed him well,
haven’t I?” and Dan looked both proud and pleased, as well he might,
for, in spite of their struggles together, Charlie loved him better
than his master.
“I am taming a colt too, and I think I shall succeed as well as
you if I am as patient and persevering,” said Mrs. Jo, smiling so
significantly at him, that Dan understood and answered, laughing, yet
in earnest,--
“We won’t jump over the fence and run away, but stay and let them make
a handsome, useful span of us, hey, Charlie?”