الفصل الفصل 16 · TAMING THE COLT

.

Chapter 16. 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

just isn't 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 very 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 fair 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, 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 performance, 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 anyway! 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 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 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?”