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 stopped 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 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 that 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