Which ended Pat’s first great lesson at the hands of man. But though this lesson had its values, since he was destined to serve mankind, yet he had learned another thing that held more value to him as an animal than all the teachings within the grasp of men–he had learned the inevitable workings of cause and effect. His nose was scraped and his knees were scraped, and all these places burned intensely. And, intelligent horse that he was, he knew why he suffered these burns–knew that he had brought them about through his own sheer wilfulness. True, he was still girt with bands and straps, and in a way they were uncomfortable. But they did not pain him as the wounds pained him. Not that he reasoned all this out. He was but a dumb animal, and pure reasoning was blissfully apart from him. But he did know the difference between what had been desired of him and what he himself had brought on through sheer wilfulness. Thus he awakened, having learned this lesson with his headlong plunge into the fence, and having added to the lesson of the futility of rebellion the very clear desires of his mistress. Other and less intelligent horses would have continued to respond to the ancestral voice within till death. But Pat was more than such a horse.
With the men gone, he revealed his intelligence further. Helen commissioned Miguel to fit him with her saddle and bridle, then hurried herself off to the house. Returning, clad in riding-habit and with hands full of sugar and quartered apples, she fed these delectables to him till his mouth dripped delightful juices. Then, while yet he munched the sweets, she mounted fearlessly. Sitting perfectly still for a time to accustom him to her weight, she then gave him the rein and word. Without hesitation he responded, stepping out across the inclosure, acknowledging her guiding rein in the corner, returning to the starting-place and, with the word, coming to a stop. It was all very beautiful, rightly understood, and, thrilled with her success, Helen sat still again, sat for a long time, gazing soberly down upon him. Then she bent forward.
“Pat,” she began, her voice breaking a little with emotion suddenly overwhelming her, “this begins our real friendship and understanding. Let us try to make it equal”–she straightened up, narrow eyes off toward the mountains–“equal to the best that lies within us both.”
CHAPTER VII
A STRANGER
As the weeks passed, each day bringing its period of companionship, this friendship and understanding between them became perfect in its simplicity. Pat learned to know her wishes almost without the reins, and he showed that he loved to carry her. Also, with these daily canters on the mesa he developed in bodily strength, and it was not long before he was in the pink of condition. Yet it was a perfection that was only natural for him. The quality of his blood was shown in his nostrils, which were wide and continuously atremble; in his eyes, which were bright and keenly alert; and in his ears, which were fine and vibrant. Stepping through town each morning under Helen’s restraining hand, he would pick up his hoofs with a cleanliness and place them down with a grace that always commanded the attention of admiring eyes. But he seemed unconscious of his quality.
Dressed in her usual dark riding-habit, Helen entered the corral one morning for her daily canter across the mesa. Already Pat was bridled and saddled. But as she stepped alongside to mount, Miguel appeared in the stable door with a brief tale of trouble and a warning. It seemed that he had experienced difficulty in preparing the horse, and between puffs at a cigarette he strongly advised Helen to be careful.
“He’s a-very fresh thees mornin’,” he concluded, with an ominous shake of his head.
Helen looked Pat over. He appeared in anything but a cantankerous mood. He was standing quietly, eyes blinking sleepily, ears wriggling lazily, in an attitude of superior indifference toward all the world. So, untroubled by the hostler’s tale, she slipped her foot into the stirrup. Instantly the horse nickered queerly and stepped away.
“Steady, Pat!” she gently admonished, and again attempted to mount. But, as before, he stepped away, this time more abruptly. He began to circle around her, prancing nervously, pausing to paw the ground, prancing again nervously. She held firm grip on his bridle, however, and sharply rebuked him. “Pat,” she exclaimed, “this is a new trait!” And then, before he could resist again, she caught hold of the saddle-horn, leaped up, hardly touching the stirrup, and gathered the reins quickly to meet further rebellion.