Speaking of horse-races reminds me to say that if all race-horses, or those that are made to run, could tell their stories they would fill volumes with tales of injustice and suffering. All animals will, if humanely treated, do their best for their masters; but a kind word and reassuring pat will go much further toward winning a race than all the spurs and curses in the world.
Many a race has been lost through the very efforts made to win it.
Coolness and self-possession are indispensable in both horse and rider.
I remember of being at a State fair with my master some years later, and witnessing a race. Among the competitors was a handsome little black horse, all grit and goodness, but, owing to its owner being partly intoxicated, it lost the stake, in consequence incurring his wrath. And how he did pound the noble little beast!
A number of disapprovals arose from the multitude, but no one ventured to interfere.
The animal was his, you know.
[CHAPTER XII.]
I had no idea before that year's experience that little things—at least what men call little things—could so affect the health and spirits of a horse. I had even felt a little scornful sometimes when I saw strong-looking animals go along with drooping heads, and noticed how dull and stupid they looked.
But when I came to endure hardships and have no petting (though Herman was better to me than most men are to their own horses) I felt differently about it.