“It is as I thought,” he then cried out so that all could hear; “our own equestrian trainer judges this animal to be vicious and dangerous—evidently so dangerous that he would not himself venture to attempt mounting him. I appeal to the University against such unfairness!”
No notice was taken of this appeal; for by this time both Serapeum and Museum were watching with breathless interest the proceedings of Aleph.
After his first words to the trainer he seemed to take no notice of what others were doing. His whole attention was absorbed by the formidable animal before him. Soon he stepped forward to the side of Beco, and stood there for a few moments looking steadily into the flaming eyes of the horse. Then he silently took the rein into his hand and motioned Beco with his whip into the background. There they stood alone for a while, confronting each other—the soul of the man looking out of his eyes, and the soul of the brute looking out of his—the one calm, confident, masterful; the other brimful of willfulness, resistance, determination, passion, and malignity. Each of them seemed to be asking the other, Which of us shall be master?
Aleph began to draw gently on the rein. The horse showed his teeth, champed his bit, struck the ground fiercely with his forefoot, seemed on the point of springing on his enemy. But Aleph gave not the slightest sign of apprehension. Not the smallest movement that looked toward self-protection was apparent. On the contrary, he advanced a step, and, if possible, his attitude grew firmer, his port more commanding, and his eyes shot out their rays into the brute eyes with a still more confident majesty. He saw the fierce eyes before him beginning to soften, to waver. He advanced another step. He laid his hand softly on the thin, quivering nostrils. He began to speak—meanwhile caressing with a gentle hand the soft nostril, the long forelock, the tapering ears.
“You are one of ten thousand—finely formed, powerfully built, full of grace and strength and spirit. A steed for a warrior! But you are not an Arabian. Parthia was your mother. And you are as wild as the wildest of the Parthians. I do not think that you have ever felt the weight of a man. You have been bitted, but never ridden. You have been mismanaged and abused till you think every man an enemy. It is a mistake. You have at last found a friend. Now we understand each other—do we not?”
The noble head had begun to droop toward the soothing tones when Aleph, putting both arms with the rein over it, drew it gently still lower, patted it, patted the heavy mane, patted the proud arch of the neck, patted the shapely flank, patted the royal curve of the back, patted that royal curve with both hands—a moment more was seated upon it, rein in hand.
What a bound there was then! The demon that had been cast out came back seven-folded. But the horse seemed to think that he had a demon on his back instead of within him. He sprang into the air with such suddenness and violence that one would have thought him thunderstruck into a resolution to forsake the earth at once and forever in favor of a higher sphere. Then followed a rapid succession of pyrotechnic struggles, in which was tried every sort of device and movement, save that of falling, known to a horse, to free himself from his burden. Such mighty wrath; such desperate and frenzied exertions; such shakings and strikings and kickings and rearings and plungings, and at last such runnings away, had not been seen since the days of Bucephalus. But during it all Aleph sat as if a part of the animal, with no strain whatever on the rein, merely watchfully accommodating himself to the various movements of which he seemed to have some secret intelligence in advance: and when the running began he only used the rein to guide it according to the round of the arena. This was no easy matter—the speed was so great and the round so small. Whether he would be able to prevent the headlong courser from dashing through the seats occupied by the Museum was so doubtful to those in the front seats that they instinctively made a great outcry and flourish of canes at the flying centaur. This added, if possible, new wings to the flight: but Aleph so skillfully combined the use of the rein with limb-pressure and flexions that the round was safely made three times. The quadruped hurricane then stopped of his own accord at the starting point—all in a tremble and covered with foam.
Aleph sprang from his back, caught up a large cloth that lay near, gently wiped off the sweat from the trembling animal, patted and stroked and soothed him with hand and voice till he ceased to tremble.
Then taking his stand a little in front, he beckoned and called. The horse instantly walked up to him. He laid his hand on the mane, both hands; they grew heavier and heavier, and still the animal stood motionless. A moment more and Aleph was again mounted and pacing slowly around the course. Arrived at the starting point, he again dismounted, tightened the band that confined the riding cloth, and then in a very leisurely way resumed his seat.
“Now, friend Parthia, shall we trot?” A gentle shake of the rein and Parthia trotted around the course with a free and stately action.