Joe Green went on very well; he learned quickly, and was so
attentive and careful that John began to trust him in many things;
but as I have said, he was small of his age, and it was seldom that
he was allowed to exercise either Ginger or me; but it so happened
one morning that John was out with Justice in the luggage cart, and
the master wanted a note to be taken immediately to a gentleman's
house, about three miles distant, and sent his orders for Joe to
saddle me and take it, adding the caution that he was to ride
steadily.
The note was delivered, and we were quietly returning when we
came to the brick-field. Here we saw a cart heavily laden with
bricks; the wheels had stuck fast in the stiff mud of some deep
ruts, and the carter was shouting and flogging the two horses
unmercifully. Joe pulled up. It was a sad sight. There were the two
horses straining and struggling with all their might to drag the
cart out, but they could not move it; the sweat streamed from their
legs and flanks, their sides heaved, and every muscle was strained,
while the man, fiercely pulling at the head of the fore horse,
swore and lashed most brutally.
"Hold hard," said Joe; "don't go on flogging the horses like
that; the wheels are so stuck that they cannot move the cart."
The man took no heed, but went on lashing.
"Stop! pray stop!" said Joe. "I'll help you to lighten the cart;
they can't move it now."
"Mind your own business, you impudent young rascal, and I'll
mind mine!" The man was in a towering passion and the worse for
drink, and laid on the whip again. Joe turned my head, and the next
moment we were going at a round gallop toward the house of the
master brick-maker. I cannot say if John would have approved of our
pace, but Joe and I were both of one mind, and so angry that we
could not have gone slower.
The house stood close by the roadside. Joe knocked at the door,
and shouted, "Halloo! Is Mr. Clay at home?" The door was opened,
and Mr. Clay himself came out.
"Halloo, young man! You seem in a hurry; any orders from the
squire this morning?"
"No, Mr. Clay, but there's a fellow in your brick-yard flogging
two horses to death. I told him to stop, and he wouldn't; I said
I'd help him to lighten the cart, and he wouldn't; so I have come
to tell you. Pray, sir, go." Joe's voice shook with excitement.
"Thank ye, my lad," said the man, running in for his hat; then
pausing for a moment, "Will you give evidence of what you saw if I
should bring the fellow up before a magistrate?"
"That I will," said Joe, "and glad too." The man was gone, and
we were on our way home at a smart trot.
"Why, what's the matter with you, Joe? You look angry all over,"
said John, as the boy flung himself from the saddle.
"I am angry all over, I can tell you," said the boy, and then in
hurried, excited words he told all that had happened. Joe was
usually such a quiet, gentle little fellow that it was wonderful to
see him so roused.
"Right, Joe! you did right, my boy, whether the fellow gets a
summons or not. Many folks would have ridden by and said it was not
their business to interfere. Now I say that with cruelty and
oppression it is everybody's business to interfere when they see
it; you did right, my boy."
Joe was quite calm by this time, and proud that John approved of
him, and cleaned out my feet and rubbed me down with a firmer hand
than usual.
They were just going home to dinner when the footman came down
to the stable to say that Joe was wanted directly in master's
private room; there was a man brought up for ill-using horses, and
Joe's evidence was wanted. The boy flushed up to his forehead, and
his eyes sparkled. "They shall have it," said he.
"Put yourself a bit straight," said John. Joe gave a pull at his
necktie and a twitch at his jacket, and was off in a moment. Our
master being one of the county magistrates, cases were often
brought to him to settle, or say what should be done. In the stable
we heard no more for some time, as it was the men's dinner hour,
but when Joe came next into the stable I saw he was in high
spirits; he gave me a good-natured slap, and said, "We won't see
such things done, will we, old fellow?" We heard afterward that he
had given his evidence so clearly, and the horses were in such an
exhausted state, bearing marks of such brutal usage, that the
carter was committed to take his trial, and might possibly be
sentenced to two or three months in prison.
It was wonderful what a change had come over Joe. John laughed,
and said he had grown an inch taller in that week, and I believe he
had. He was just as kind and gentle as before, but there was more
purpose and determination in all that he did—as if he had jumped at
once from a boy into a man.
Now I had lived in this happy place three years, but sad changes
were about to come over us. We heard from time to time that our
mistress was ill. The doctor was often at the house, and the master
looked grave and anxious. Then we heard that she must leave her
home at once, and go to a warm country for two or three years. The
news fell upon the household like the tolling of a deathbell.
Everybody was sorry; but the master began directly to make
arrangements for breaking up his establishment and leaving England.
We used to hear it talked about in our stable; indeed, nothing else
was talked about.
John went about his work silent and sad, and Joe scarcely
whistled. There was a great deal of coming and going; Ginger and I
had full work.
The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie and Flora, with
their governess. They came to bid us good-by. They hugged poor
Merrylegs like an old friend, and so indeed he was. Then we heard
what had been arranged for us. Master had sold Ginger and me to his
old friend, the Earl of W——, for he thought we should have a good
place there. Merrylegs he had given to the vicar, who was wanting a
pony for Mrs. Blomefield, but it was on the condition that he
should never be sold, and that when he was past work he should be
shot and buried.
Joe was engaged to take care of him and to help in the house, so
I thought that Merrylegs was well off. John had the offer of
several good places, but he said he should wait a little and look
round.
The evening before they left the master came into the stable to
give some directions, and to give his horses the last pat. He
seemed very low-spirited; I knew that by his voice. I believe we
horses can tell more by the voice than many men can.
"Have you decided what to do, John?" he said. "I find you have
not accepted either of those offers."
"No, sir; I have made up my mind that if I could get a situation
with some first-rate colt-breaker and horse-trainer, it would be
the right thing for me. Many young animals are frightened and
spoiled by wrong treatment, which need not be if the right man took
them in hand. I always get on well with horses, and if I could help
some of them to a fair start I should feel as if I was doing some
good. What do you think of it, sir?"
"I don't know a man anywhere," said master, "that I should think
so suitable for it as yourself. You understand horses, and somehow
they understand you, and in time you might set up for yourself; I
think you could not do better. If in any way I can help you, write
to me. I shall speak to my agent in London, and leave your
character with him."
Master gave John the name and address, and then he thanked him
for his long and faithful service; but that was too much for John.
"Pray, don't, sir, I can't bear it; you and my dear mistress have
done so much for me that I could never repay it. But we shall never
forget you, sir, and please God, we may some day see mistress back
again like herself; we must keep up hope, sir." Master gave John
his hand, but he did not speak, and they both left the stable.
The last sad day had come; the footman and the heavy luggage had
gone off the day before, and there were only master and mistress
and her maid. Ginger and I brought the carriage up to the hall door
for the last time. The servants brought out cushions and rugs and
many other things; and when all were arranged master came down the
steps carrying the mistress in his arms (I was on the side next to
the house, and could see all that went on); he placed her carefully
in the carriage, while the house servants stood round crying.
"Good-by, again," he said; "we shall not forget any of you," and
he got in. "Drive on, John."
Joe jumped up, and we trotted slowly through the park and
through the village, where the people were standing at their doors
to have a last look and to say, "God bless them."
When we reached the railway station I think mistress walked from
the carriage to the waiting-room. I heard her say in her own sweet
voice, "Good-by, John. God bless you." I felt the rein twitch, but
John made no answer; perhaps he could not speak. As soon as Joe had
taken the things out of the carriage John called him to stand by
the horses, while he went on the platform. Poor Joe! he stood close
up to our heads to hide his tears. Very soon the train came puffing
up into the station; then two or three minutes, and the doors were
slammed to, the guard whistled, and the train glided away, leaving
behind it only clouds of white smoke and some very heavy
hearts.
When it was quite out of sight John came back.
"We shall never see her again," he said—"never." He took the
reins, mounted the box, and with Joe drove slowly home; but it was
not our home now.
The next morning after breakfast Joe put Merrylegs into the
mistress' low chaise to take him to the vicarage; he came first and
said good-by to us, and Merrylegs neighed to us from the yard. Then
John put the saddle on Ginger and the leading rein on me, and rode
us across the country about fifteen miles to Earlshall Park, where
the Earl of W—— lived. There was a very fine house and a great deal
of stabling. We went into the yard through a stone gateway, and
John asked for Mr. York. It was some time before he came. He was a
fine-looking, middle-aged man, and his voice said at once that he
expected to be obeyed. He was very friendly and polite to John, and
after giving us a slight look he called a groom to take us to our
boxes, and invited John to take some refreshment.
We were taken to a light, airy stable, and placed in boxes
adjoining each other, where we were rubbed down and fed. In about
half an hour John and Mr. York, who was to be our new coachman,
came in to see us.
"Now, Mr. Manly," he said, after carefully looking at us both,
"I can see no fault in these horses; but we all know that horses
have their peculiarities as well as men, and that sometimes they
need different treatment. I should like to know if there is
anything particular in either of these that you would like to
mention."
"Well," said John, "I don't believe there is a better pair of
horses in the country, and right grieved I am to part with them,
but they are not alike. The black one is the most perfect temper I
ever knew; I suppose he has never known a hard word or a blow since
he was foaled, and all his pleasure seems to be to do what you
wish; but the chestnut, I fancy, must have had bad treatment; we
heard as much from the dealer. She came to us snappish and
suspicious, but when she found what sort of place ours was, it all
went off by degrees; for three years I have never seen the smallest
sign of temper, and if she is well treated there is not a better,
more willing animal than she is. But she is naturally a more
irritable constitution than the black horse; flies tease her more;
anything wrong in the harness frets her more; and if she were
ill-used or unfairly treated she would not be unlikely to give tit
for tat. You know that many high-mettled horses will do so."
"Of course," said York, "I quite understand; but you know it is
not easy in stables like these to have all the grooms just what
they should be. I do my best, and there I must leave it. I'll
remember what you have said about the mare."
They were going out of the stable, when John stopped and said,
"I had better mention that we have never used the check-rein with
either of them; the black horse never had one on, and the dealer
said it was the gag-bit that spoiled the other's temper."
"Well," said York, "if they come here they must wear the
check-rein. I prefer a loose rein myself, and his lordship is
always very reasonable about horses; but my lady—that's another
thing; she will have style, and if her carriage horses are not
reined up tight she wouldn't look at them. I always stand out
against the gag-bit, and shall do so, but it must be tight up when
my lady rides!"
"I am sorry for it, very sorry," said John; "but I must go now,
or I shall lose the train."
He came round to each of us to pat and speak to us for the last
time; his voice sounded very sad.
I held my face close to him; that was all I could do to say
good-by; and then he was gone, and I have never seen him since.
The next day Lord W—— came to look at us; he seemed pleased with
our appearance.
"I have great confidence in these horses," he said, "from the
character my friend Mr. Gordon has given me of them. Of course they
are not a match in color, but my idea is that they will do very
well for the carriage while we are in the country. Before we go to
London I must try to match Baron; the black horse, I believe, is
perfect for riding."
York then told him what John had said about us.
"Well," said he, "you must keep an eye to the mare, and put the
check-rein easy; I dare say they will do very well with a little
humoring at first. I'll mention it to your lady."
In the afternoon we were harnessed and put in the carriage, and
as the stable clock struck three we were led round to the front of
the house. It was all very grand, and three or four times as large
as the old house at Birtwick, but not half so pleasant, if a horse
may have an opinion. Two footmen were standing ready, dressed in
drab livery, with scarlet breeches and white stockings. Presently
we heard the rustling sound of silk as my lady came down the flight
of stone steps. She stepped round to look at us; she was a tall,
proud-looking woman, and did not seem pleased about something, but
she said nothing, and got into the carriage. This was the first
time of wearing a check-rein, and I must say, though it certainly
was a nuisance not to be able to get my head down now and then, it
did not pull my head higher than I was accustomed to carry it. I
felt anxious about Ginger, but she seemed to be quiet and
content.
The next day at three o'clock we were again at the door, and the
footmen as before; we heard the silk dress rustle and the lady came
down the steps, and in an imperious voice she said, "York, you must
put those horses' heads higher; they are not fit to be seen."
York got down, and said very respectfully, "I beg your pardon,
my lady, but these horses have not been reined up for three years,
and my lord said it would be safer to bring them to it by degrees;
but if your ladyship pleases I can take them up a little more."
"Do so," she said.
York came round to our heads and shortened the rein himself—one
hole, I think; every little makes a difference, be it for better or
worse, and that day we had a steep hill to go up. Then I began to
understand what I had heard of. Of course, I wanted to put my head
forward and take the carriage up with a will, as we had been used
to do; but no, I had to pull with my head up now, and that took all
the spirit out of me, and the strain came on my back and legs. When
we came in Ginger said, "Now you see what it is like; but this is
not bad, and if it does not get much worse than this I shall say
nothing about it, for we are very well treated here; but if they
strain me up tight, why, let 'em look out! I can't bear it, and I
won't."
Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing reins were shortened, and
instead of looking forward with pleasure to having my harness put
on, as I used to do, I began to dread it. Ginger, too, seemed
restless, though she said very little. At last I thought the worst
was over; for several days there was no more shortening, and I
determined to make the best of it and do my duty, though it was now
a constant harass instead of a pleasure; but the worst was not
come.