Burr says he has seen plenty of balky horses started by feeding them an apple or some little thing they particularly like, and I tell you honestly that we horses like dainties as well as anybody. Master must have spent dollars and dollars for the apples and candy he has fed me in my life. Another device Burr mentioned was lifting up one of the fore feet and tapping smartly on the shoe, and another, buckling a strap tightly about the knee. A man he used to work for had a span of balky broncos. They kept backing instead of standing perfectly still, so he would simply turn them around, and they would trot off well pleased. Of course, he could turn back again as soon as he liked. He never whipped them.
Kindness and patience will cure the worst case of balkiness existing; harshness only seats the malady more deeply, and horses can't help it.
Master and I were some miles from home on one occasion, when we heard a sound something like that made by a horse-power threshing machine, only sharper and more jerky.
"What is that?" Master asked of the man riding with him.
"A treadmill wood-saw, I call it. I don't know that that is its name."
As we came nearer we saw a sort of trap up in the air with a big wheel under it. The floor of the trap was quite a marked incline, and tied on there were two horses stepping, stepping, always stepping. Presently one of them stumbled and went down on her knees, struggling all the while to regain her footing.
Several times this was repeated, and they both looked so worn and worried.
The incline of the floor caused them to stand in a humped over and most trying position.
"I am afraid, if I were a horse, I would quit stepping and let the machine run down," said Master.