TRUE IS BROKEN TO HARNESS.
Even, pleasant and cheerful was True’s natural disposition, but besides these traits there were others that went to make up the peculiar perfection horse-flesh had attained in the twenty-five years before his birth.
A courage, vitality, and zest seemed to be in the very air of the world at that period of horse history, and the blend—through his father—of Arabian, Barb and Turk had produced in him the most ideal of horse characters.
That Southern strain was, no doubt, stimulated by the clear, bracing climate of New England, and the combination of circumstances which developed his muscles and expanded his chest, made him the fit founder of a race.
About the year he was born Eclipse, his kins-horse, died.
Eclipse was that four-footed bird “behind whom the whirlwind toiled in vain” and who, in his greatest race, “beat the other horse by two hundred yards, without urging!”[3]
Since then men have said that Eclipse ran “a mile a minute,” but Gipsey told her son differently; she knew horses only ran against each other, not against time.
She also told the colt the part his family had played in the late War, and how General Washington, himself, had ridden one of them at Trenton; but she was obliged to confess, with a droop of her spirited tail, that his father, True Briton had, in his youth, served a British officer.
So graphic were some of these war-tales that the young horse quivered, and almost imagined he heard the crack of muskets and smelt the smoke of battle! He dreamed longingly of a time when he, too, might serve his country under the saddle of some brave soldier, and his nostrils grew wide and his eyes fiery at the hope which was so long afterwards to be realized.
Had she been a woman, and men had seen the workings of her mind as she instructed her son, Gipsey might have been called a witch and as such been burned. With pointing ears and ember-like eyes she neighed softly to him of the Desert; she seemed to hear its call; to see its trackless wastes, and afar, at its limits, she told him groves of olive and date, and pools of clear, cool water lay.
One day, with that far-off look in her eyes, she said to him, prophetically:
“When other horses, now famous, are forgotten, my son, your memory will live on, your influence will still be felt. Men will still love you and you will be praised and revered by all who have knowledge of excellence in horse-flesh. A state will be noted for its horses, and Allah has chosen you to be the first of this line.”
She told him to be ever brave, gentle, and loving; obedient to his master, Man; not to falter, not to turn back never mind the cost.
She told him how to anticipate a command, that he might obey, instantly, and he afterwards became so proficient in this sense that when he came to be trained to harness he obeyed Silas Whitman’s every gesture, as if instinctively, often before the words themselves came. In later life, becoming more experienced, he often took the initiative in times of danger or peril.[4]
When True was a little over a year old Master Whitman brought a piebald horse to live in their stable. Poor old Ceph was of low birth and very stupid.
“In the Desert,” Gipsey told him, “the Arabs say, ‘if piebald, flee him as the pestilence, for he is own brother to a cow’!”
Ceph turned out to be a “stump-sucker” or “piper,” and the grunts and groans accompanying his gnawing disturbed the other two horses intensely. At last when he began on the partition between his stall and True’s it was too much for the colt to bear in silence and patience. He determined to cure him in some way, though at first he did not see how it was to be done.
One day, however, a bit of chain was left hanging on his manger and, when he pushed it with his nose, it made a jangling noise. Ceph, always curious, stopped his “cribbing” long enough to listen, dully, with his flapping ears, and to wonder what it was.
After a short time True found, to his surprise and satisfaction, that he could lift the chain with his teeth and, as he was now tall enough for his chin to reach the top of the partition, it occurred to him he could use the bit of iron to very good advantage.
He laid his plans accordingly and bade Caesar be on hand to see the fun.
About midnight Ceph began to gnaw.
Quick as wink True had the chain in his teeth and over the wall it went—crack—right between Ceph’s floppy ears!
Such amazement there never was in any dull horse’s quiet, stupid mind! He squealed and sprang one side, startled into anger and affright. But when he recovered himself all was still; no suspicious noises came from his neighbor’s stall.
Caesar had been standing on his hind legs, peeping through a hole in the partition and at sight of Ceph’s bewilderment, he rolled over in a paroxysm of mirth, as if he did not have a bone in his body, while True stood motionless, guarding their secret.
Presently, very cautiously, Ceph began to gnaw again on the wood of his manger.
In his haste to give another lick, True nearly stepped on the prostrate cat, but, holding his foot poised a moment, Caesar sprang lightly from under it just as a mighty swing took the chain over the barrier.
Ceph threw his head into the air, indignantly, but his suspicions were unconfirmed the silence next door was so intense; then, to add to his perplexity, he heard Gipsey wake with a groan and a stamp.
“Will we never get any rest!” she neighed, hopelessly.
True whinneyed softly, over her side of his stable, to be of good cheer, the worst was over. And afterwards the least sound from Ceph brought a rattling of the mysterious chain which had struck him so hard on the head.
For a few nights this went on, but finally success crowned the colt’s efforts and much to the satisfaction of all, Silas included, Ceph stopped gnawing.
This was not the only time True showed ingenuity. He learned many useful though not mischievous tricks all by himself, but it is not to be supposed that Silas thought as much of them as Gipsey. The colt discovered how to open all the gates, but, as he never thought to close them, their barn-companions wandered out and never returned without being sent for though the horses always came home in good temper after their wanderings in time for the evening meal. At last locks and keys were put on everything, and this was the first intimation True had that his pleasant little accomplishment was not appreciated by his master. As he grew older he eliminated the unpopular trick from his list.
One day, being thirsty, he began to consider how he could open the rain barrel, in which Mistress Whitman caught water for her washing. He tried hard to push the cover [to] one side, but some clever human contrivance made it catch, and so, after trying several other ways, he found the simple and right one of catching the handle in his strong young teeth and lifting straight upward!
Sometimes when he had done this and drunk all the water he wanted, he would pick the cat up by the scruff of the neck with his teeth and hold him over the barrel, meowing desperately, for of all things Caesar hated water! True was only teasing him, but the cat never knew that, and a spasm of terror would chill his marrow at thought of being dropped in.
The death of Black Baby made True more serious and earnest. He went about his daily tasks with interest and spirit, but he did not romp so much and listened more attentively to his mother’s teachings.
One day he found himself hitched up in harness with old Piebald, Ceph. Silas had thought Gipsey too spirited to begin him with, but True walked so fast, and—though very unsteadily at first—trotted so much faster than his mate that the next day he was taken out with his mother.
From her he had learned the Royal Road to Happiness and Success: “Obedience first, last, and all the time!”
It was, indeed, a proud day for the colt.
Easy it was for a horse to obey Silas Whitman, he was so careful to explain, and to be sure they understood; he never let them get fretted trying to find out what he wanted by themselves.
As soon as True found he was not expected to run or gallop in harness, he settled down to walking or trotting in his nervous brisk way, and soon the gaits of mother and son were evenly matched.
As time increased True became more and more lovable and people came for miles to see him; some even wanted to buy him and offered as much as twenty-five dollars. But Silas refused all offers for his pet. Very soon he was hitched to the “shay” alone. He stepped out bravely enough feeling the friendly hand of his master to advise and guide him. Then again he had a turn under the saddle; this was freer for there were not so many rules to remember!
When they went on trips of the latter kind, Silas, who was a very well-informed man, talked to him and told him many interesting things and gave him much instruction. Sometimes, on their way home over open fields, grassy knolls and wooded hillsides, Silas would take the wrong turning and leave True to find out the right way by himself. That strange sense of direction in horses was singularly acute in True and they invariably reached home safely, the horse enjoying this confidence of his rider.
One sunny day when the little horse was nearly two years old, they were returning from a trip up the river when Silas swooned, it was a sickness to which he was subject, and, slipping from the saddle to the road, he rolled into the ditch. True, no little disturbed, stood thoughtful a moment, wondering what he could do for his unconscious friend. Finally he caught hold of the Continental collar with his teeth and drew him gently up on the grassy border of the road, under the shade of an oak. Looking around he whinneyed for help, but, as no answer came, he turned and galloped homeward, nor did he go by the longer way of the road. Over rough, uneven, cleared spaces, he went; stone fences stretched across his way; here and there strips of dense woods interfered with but did not retard his speed or intention.
When he neared the house a curl of blue smoke told him where he would find Mistress Whitman, nor was he mistaken. He trotted straight to the kitchen window at which he was wont to receive goodies from her generous hands; there she stood, slender and womanish, beside a pot of soup, hanging on the crane, whose warm fragrance permeated the air.
True whinneyed sharply. She looked up, and, seeing the empty saddle, started with anxiety and hastened out. The horse rubbed his nose on her sleeve and neighed his message, softly.
She seemed to understand the horse-language at once and, leading him to the horse-block, climbed into the saddle without delay.
And this was True’s first experience of carrying a lady! She was so light of weight, and she spoke to him so fearlessly, that he drew much comfort through his bridle-rein. He started off at an even canter not hesitating at his stable door, though it must have been hard to pass the appetizing sound of Gipsey and Ceph munching at their supper.
This time he took the road, in a long smooth gait, and after a short time reached the strip of woods where Silas had been left.
Master Whitman, thin and very bright of eye, was sitting up now, and seemed much better, so his good wife aided him to mount the horse and climbed up behind him; thus they set out toward home, and True had his first experience of “carrying double.”
What a supper the “pony” had that night!
Oats, dry as pease, corn and carrots, a little flaxseed jelly, and chopped hay springled with salt.
’Twas a supper fit for Eclipse, himself!