“All right,” said Mr. Meadows who had volunteered to spend the night on watch beside Ticktock. “We’ll bring out some blankets and fix up a place where you can lie down if you want to.”
Dawn found Jim leaning back against the tree asleep with a blanket around his shoulders. Ticktock dozed quietly in his sling, apparently comfortable and contented. Mrs. Meadows discovered them still in deep slumber when she came out to call Jim for breakfast. She looked down fondly at her son’s drawn, tired face, hating to awaken him. Reaching down, she shook his shoulder gently.
“Jim, Jim,” she said softly. “Come in and have some breakfast.”
Jim was ravenous. He looked at Ticktock, who still slept peacefully; so he decided to go in to breakfast. However, as he started toward the house the mustang awoke and stirred restively. No amount of persuasion could have made Jim leave then, so his breakfast was served in the yard. He sat under the big tree hungrily devouring bacon and eggs, sleepy and tired, but happy. He then fed Ticktock, lovingly holding a bucket for the horse to eat and drink. He refused to go more than a few feet from the mustang, chasing away every fly and fussing over Ticktock as if he were a tiny baby. Jean brought apples and choice bits of clover to offer. The pony, instead of refusing to eat, accepted everything until Mr. Meadows became alarmed over Ticktock’s large appetite.
“Remember, he’s not going to get any exercise for a long time,” he warned. “You’ll overfeed him if you don’t watch out.” Mr. Meadows sunk two posts near Ticktock and between them nailed boards which were padded to allow the mustang to rest against the structure comfortably.
The news traveled fast through the countryside and all morning there was a string of visitors. Some came out of sympathy for Jim and others out of pure curiosity. A horse with his leg in a plaster cast was quite an attraction, particularly a famous horse like Ticktock. Jean sternly kept all visitors at a respectful distance, afraid they would alarm the pony. Shortly after noon Timothy came riding down the lane astride a huge Percheron.
“Just heard about the accident,” he said to Jim. “It was certainly tough luck. I thought I’d come see if there was anything I could do.”
He examined the injured leg with great interest. “Nice job—sure hope it works.” He wasted no further words on condolence but promptly took charge of the situation.
“While it’s good weather we better get things rigged up for rain,” he said with authority. “We’ll fix him a regular stall right here. Roof to shade him and a manger. It would be just as well not to have too much of the yard in plain view—something might scare him.”
Together Timothy and Jim stretched a big canvas tarpaulin over Ticktock and pegged the sides securely to the ground. They made a small manger out of boxes and placed it where it was convenient for the mustang. Then they spread straw on the ground around his feet and in a short time had him appearing very comfortable in a tentlike stall. Timothy finished matters by giving the little horse a thorough grooming. The trainer’s expert touch and soothing voice kept the pony quiet and contented and for the first time since the accident Jim was able to leave his side without a feeling of alarm.